Facets of Life
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: It's six years since the war's end, and the wizarding world is finally getting back to normal. The Weasley family is also celebrating good news: Harry and Ginny have just found out that they're expecting their first child. But what should be a happy occasion quickly takes a turn for the dark, when Hermione discovers that not all is as it should be... Canon compliant.
1. Surprises

_Disclaimer: Anything and everything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling; I am merely playing with her wonderful creation and am not making any money off doing so._

* * *

**Chapter One: ****Surprises**

In some ways, she thought, it was funny that the thing you spent the most time doing as a professional Quidditch player wasn't playing Quidditch, or training, or even post-match interviews – it was medicals. Ginny Potter—or Ginny Weasley, as she was still known professionally—had spent so long inside the Holyhead Harpies onsite medical centre at the training ground in Wales that she sometimes joked it was more of a home than the cottage she and Harry lived in in Godric's Hollow.

This month, she was being tested to ensure she was medically fit to Portkey to Taiwan with the rest of the squad, to take part in a pre-season friendly with a team there. She was used to the tests now, and stood by patiently as Kristina, the friendly mediwitch, took various blood samples and tests from her. She was impatient to get back onto the field with the other Harpies, but she liked Kristina, and she was happy enough to gossip with her whilst she waited.

"So anyway, then I told him that if he wanted to talk to me like that, he'd have to buy me a drink first!" Kristina finished, and Ginny laughed appreciatively.

"Good on you!" she said. "So then what did he say?"

Kristina did not respond, and, had Ginny not had her back to her, she would have been able to see that this was because she was frowning at a test tube. "Kris?"

"Ms. Weasley, I'd like you to get back onto the bed for me, please," Kristina said, her voice purely professional. Ginny obeyed at once, alarmed by the sudden change—if Kristina had dropped the friendly banter, something was wrong. "Could you tell me the date of your last menstrual period?"

"The date of my...Kristina...you can't mean..." Ginny's voice drifted off, one hand rising unconsciously to her stomach even as the significance of the words became apparent. Now she thought about it, her period _was_ slightly late – although not late enough that she had begun to worry. "I guess I am a couple of weeks behind...though I didn't think that...I..."

"And have you had any nausea, particularly in the mornings? Any fainting or dizziness, or strange cravings?" Kristina persisted.

"Now you come to mention it, I have been feeling a bit faint and tired every evening for the past week or so," Ginny said. "But that's normal, with our sort of training schedule isn't it? Isn't it?"

"Ginny," Kristina said seriously. "If you hadn't already guessed from my not-so-subtle questioning: you're pregnant."

"I can't be," Ginny said immediately. Kristina raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm on the Potion – I take birth control!"

"The Potion's good, but it's not failsafe. There's a one per cent chance that you'll still get pregnant, despite taking it correctly and...well, here you are. The one per cent," Kristina replied.

"Pregnant," whispered Ginny. "You're sure?"

"This test is one hundred per cent accurate," Kristina said. "If it says you're pregnant – you're pregnant. Congratulations?"

"I...I don't know," Ginny replied, bewildered. Though she was married, she and Harry had not been planning on having children for a while yet, and Kristina's news seemed almost as bizarre to her as if she was being told she was growing a second head, and not a baby. "I...I'm not sure what I...oh, Merlin, I'm going to have to stop playing, aren't I?"

She felt a lump grow in her throat as the realisation hit her – it was written into her contract (and the contract of every other Holyhead Harpy) that the moment they conceived, they were off the team. It was too much of a risk for a pregnant woman to be involved in the violence of a Quidditch game, but she loved the sport so much. She had wanted to spend a few more years playing yet, before she had children. She swallowed angrily. She wouldn't cry – at least, not here. Not in the medical centre...

Kristina looked at her kindly. "This may come as a surprise to you, but we have dealt with unexpected pregnancy on the squad before now," she said drily. "We have a plan for this sort of situation."

"You do?" Ginny asked. She was grateful for the first time to be sat on the bed – the room seemed to be spinning and she felt sure she'd fall over were she to get to her feet.

"We do," Kristina confirmed. "What we'll do is, we'll say you have dragon pox. The slightest hint of a baby and the press'll be all over you and Harry, and I know you hate that. So, we'll tell 'em you have the dragon pox and that you need to take two months off work to recover. If, in that time, you decide to abort the baby, you can come back to work as soon as you're recovered and no one will be any the wiser. You're currently about six weeks along, so if you do decide to continue with your pregnancy, by the time the dragon pox excuse runs out, you'll be well established and you'll have to spill the beans to the world about the baby, because you'll be showing."

Kristina broke off, realising that all this seemed to be going rather fast for Ginny. "Basically, long story short: we tell everyone you're ill to buy you some time. Only myself, Gwynog and the managers know that really, you're pregnant. If you decide to terminate the pregnancy, you can come back at any time, having staged a miraculous recovery from your illness. If not, you've got maternity pay guaranteed for at least a season, and a little while before you have to go official with the news—which I'd imagine could be quite handy for you and Harry."

"Okay," Ginny said. "Okay. I understand. Okay."

"Look, Gin, I know it's a bit of a shock, especially if you're not planning for it," Kristina said earnestly. "But you're married, and Harry loves you so much. There are much worse situations to have a baby in. And if you _do _decide to terminate – well, you won't get any judgement from me."

Ginny gave a half smile, one hand still pressed to her abdomen. "I need to talk to Harry," she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Good idea!" said Kristina warmly. "Look, why don't you use my floo, and go home. I'll sort everything out for you – management, the press, all of it. Just remember: you've got the dragon pox, and you're going to be off for up to two months whilst you recover."

She held out a box of floo powder, and Ginny took a handful gratefully. "Dragon pox, two months," she repeated. "Thanks, Kristina."

"No worries, love," the mediwitch replied, and Ginny disappeared in a swirl of green light.

* * *

It was George's turn to pick Roxanne up from her grandparents', which gave Angelina time to slip into the apothecary on her way home. She only had one purchase to make, and the transaction was complete quickly. She walked briskly the few hundred yards down to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes in the pleasantly warm early summer evening feeling, for the first time in a long time, genuinely content.

She let herself into the shop, and up to the flat, through the back entrance, and was greeted by the sight of George reading Roxanne a story as their daughter shrieked with delight at his ridiculous overacting. She stood in the doorway watching, and was rewarded by George grabbing her around the waist, dipping her and then planting a kiss on her lips at the moment in the story when the hero saves the day.

She laughed and swatted him away, and he picked up Roxanne and placed her on his shoulders, dancing around the small living room with her. "I just want to freshen up – keep her entertained, then I'll start dinner?" she asked.

"'Course love," George replied, his attention already fixed back on their daughter. Angelina headed towards the bathroom, where she drew out the small package from the apothecary. To the tiny vial of clear potion, she added a couple of drops of blood from the finger she had just pricked, then sat down on the edge of the bathtub, turning her back.

It wasn't the first time she had bought such a potion. She and George had been trying for another child for a while now, but for the past few months they had been disappointed. She knew what was supposed to happen with the liquid – if it remained clear, she was not pregnant; if it turned pink, she was having a girl; blue, a boy. She was two weeks late, and she had been feeling quite sick in the mornings lately, but she tried not to get her hopes up. This had happened before, and to no avail. It was unlikely to be different this time, and there was certainly no point getting George's hopes up, too...

She checked her watch. Five minutes was up. She turned.

There, on the edge of the sink, sat a vial of bright blue potion.

Out in the living room-cum-kitchenette, George had already made a start on dinner. "Ah, my-a darling Angelina," he said, in a faux-Italian accent. His grand flourishes amused Roxanne, playing with a set of building blocks on the floor, but made it impossible for him to see that Angelina was hiding something behind her back. "I thought-a we'd have-a spaghetti-a for dinner tonight, _non_?"

She had meant to say something deep and meaningful, something to prepare him for the news. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, and Roxanne, and the family they had build—we still building—out of the ruins of the war. She had planned this moment for months, each time varying the way she told him, but imagining each scenario more elaborately than the last. But in the end, all she could do was unceremoniously plonk the vial down on the countertop, in between the tin of tomatoes and the saucepan.

She watched as George's expression changed – confusion, to understanding, to joy, to love, to—"Ohh!" she shrieked as he gathered her in his arms, squeezing her at once terribly tightly, but wonderfully gently.

"Is that—" he choked, and she nodded. "A boy?"

"A boy," she confirmed, her own joyful tears now cascading down her face and making it hard to talk. They clung to each other and cried, but it was a happy crying, and Angelina felt better than she had done in months.

"Mumma?" a little voice said, and she felt a hand tug on her shirt. George bent down and picked up Roxanne, and they held her together, between them.

"Everything's okay, Roxie," she said, smoothing her daughter's curls.

"Everything's bloody fantastic," George said, and Roxanne smiled happily. Angelina felt that there had never been—and would never be—a more wonderful moment than right then, with the three of them and the baby in her womb stood together in their kitchen, watching as the evening sunlight shone across Diagon Alley.

"Fred?" George asked, cutting across her thoughts, and she didn't even have to ask what he meant.

"Fred," she nodded, and she realised then that she was wrong. _This _was now the most perfect moment.

* * *

Ginny had nearly eight hours between when she left the Harpies' training ground and when Harry arrived back from work to prepare a way to tell him that they were going to have a baby, and she still hadn't worked out how she was going to do it by the time he walked through the front door that evening.

The day had alternately flown by and crawled by – she hadn't been able to settle at _anything_. She'd tried to clean the house the Muggle way, to keep her mind occupied and distract her, but got bored halfway through and finished the task in seconds using magic. It was the same with making dinner, degnoming the garden and she couldn't even concentrate long enough to read an article in _Which Broomstick?_.

She half expected to be suddenly ravaged by nausea, or to have an inexplicable craving for some ridiculous food, like seaweed dipped in chocolate, or even to start crying for no real reason and sob wretchedly for half an hour before announcing that she felt perfectly fine again, like Audrey had often done when she'd been pregnant with Molly. But all the things pregnant women were _supposed_ to do or feel seemed to be passing her by, and she felt completely normal.

That could be, she mused, because she was only six weeks pregnant – she didn't know when the traditional symptoms of pregnancy were supposed to kick in, but she knew that she was only just expecting. Maybe all this would come later...and she supposed that, if it did, she would be longing for the time when she wasn't constantly nauseous, or a spotty, hormonal wreck. She should make the most of it.

She would have to get a book or two from Flourish and Blotts – something to tell her how pregnancies progressed, and what babies needed when they were born. Hermione could come with her – she _loved_ shopping for books. Hermione actually probably already had a book on pregnancy. She had books on _everything_...

This thought made her laugh somewhat hysterically, and the sound covered up the noises Harry made as he returned from work. "What's so funny, Ginny?" he asked, poking his head round the kitchen door.

Ginny jumped guiltily, as though she was a naughty schoolgirl caught breaking the rules. "N-nothing!" she stuttered, but Harry seemed preoccupied and didn't notice her odd behavouir.

"Honestly, I've had such a rubbish day. We're _still _processing all the paperwork and everything associated with Yaxley's arrest from six months ago! I know we spent nearly six years trying to catch the guy, but that's starting to seem easy compared to everything we have to sort out now. The Ministry are such a bunch of...of...paper pushers!" He paused, letting out a frustrated breath, then visibly took himself in hand, plastering a smile on his face and coming to stand next to his wife. "But you don't want to hear about all that," he said, slipping his arms around her waist. "I'll shut up now, and we can have a nice evening to oursel—Gin? What's up?"

She had stiffened in his arms, and he could tell at once that there was something wrong. "Ginny? Is everything okay? Your parents...nothing's wrong, is it?"

His alarm was growing by the second, and Ginny realised she had to say something to reassure him quickly. "No, no, everyone's fine," she said. "Sit down." She pointed to the chair, and Harry's eyes grew even wider. "No, I promise, it's nothing like that. Nothing bad. Just...sit down. I need to tell you something."

Obediently, Harry sat and she took the chair opposite him, holding his hand across the kitchen table. "I had a routine medical today – you know how it is, I have more of the damned things than you do," she began. "And I...they found out that I...that _we_ are going to have a baby."

Harry looked at her blankly. "I'm pregnant," Ginny said, surprised at his lack of reaction. "I...we're having a _baby_." Her husband opened his mouth and closed it a few times.

"A real baby?" he managed to croak out, after a moment.

"I should think so..." Ginny said drily.

"But _how_?" he gasped. Ginny, remembering her own shock at finding out the news, bit back the sarcastic retort that was on the tip of her tongue.

"Well, I'm on the Potion, but Kristina—you know, the mediwitch—she says it's still not a fool proof form of contraception. There's something like a slightly less than one per cent chance that you might get pregnant if you're taking it, and...well, I guess we're that less than one per cent," she shrugged. "Plus, I'm something like six weeks along – it's still really early, so I haven't had any symptoms yet. I hadn't even really registered that my period was slightly late."

"I...a _baby_," Harry said. "I...I'm going to be a _Dad_!"

"Well, about that...I think it might be my other husband's," Ginny admitted, before laughing at the look of confusion, horror, then dawning understanding on Harry's face. He joined in her laughter, and they clung to each other across the table, nervously giggling and staring at each other in wonder.

"A baby," Harry said again.

"A baby," Ginny agreed.

"A _baby_," Harry repeated.

"Our baby," Ginny murmured.

"_Our_ baby," Harry said.

"Our—no. This has to stop, or we'll be here all night parroting each other," Ginny laughed.

"You're right," Harry said, getting to his feet. "This calls for a toast! I'll get some champagne!"

"_Harry_," Ginny said pointedly.

"Oh right, yes," Harry said, blushing slightly. "Better be pumpkin juice, then!"

For some reason, this struck her as hysterically funny, and her peels of laughter made Harry laugh, too. Soon, they were both doubled over, clutching their sides and wiping tears of laughter from their faces. Ginny supposed it was the shock – but still, it seemed to be a _good_ sort of shock.

The baby was completely out of the blue, and there would be so much to do so suddenly to prepare for its arrival – she'd need to sort out her job; how to tell her family; what to do about a nursery and all the associated baby paraphernalia; how to handle the press, who would have an absolute field day with the Boy Who Lived's baby...but all that could wait until later.

She had, briefly, considered the possibility of terminating the pregnancy if Harry had been less than enthused about the idea of having a baby, but looking at the utter joy on his face, she knew that was out of the question. Besides, once she had gotten over the initial shock, she found herself feeling quite excited about the prospect of being a mother. Yes, there was an awful lot to do before the baby arrived, but she had nearly nine months to do it, and more importantly, she had Harry to do it with her.

She closed her eyes, and allowed Harry's strong arms to envelop her in a hug. This happiness, this feeling of complete delight...this would be her new Patronus memory, she knew.

* * *

Ron awoke slowly on Saturday morning, rolling over and reaching out, still very groggy with sleep, to Hermione.

His outstretched arm hit the mattress, and he blinked, suddenly much more awake. Hermione's side of the bed had been slept in, but she was no longer there and the mattress felt cold – she had clearly been up for a while. He glanced at his watch – it was only half-past nine, still quite early for a weekend. Maybe she'd gone to make a start on breakfast?

He yawned, stretched and rolled out of bed, fishing around for the t shirt he knew was on the floor somewhere. He'd go to help her cook. Last time he'd helped her make breakfast, it wasn't just food he'd gotten out of it... Grinning at the memory, Ron pulled the t shirt on over his head, and slipped out of the bedroom.

Just as he did so, the door to the bathroom opened and Hermione stepped out. Her face was deathly pale except where it was streaked pink with tears, her hair was pulled back roughly into a sloppy ponytail, from which strands were escaping haphazardly and she was biting her lip so hard he was surprised it wasn't bleeding. In short, she looked dreadful – dreadfully ill.

Ron hurried over to her in alarm. "Hermione! What's wrong?" he asked, gathering her into his arms. She leaned into him, letting out one small sob. "Ssh, it's okay," he said soothingly, trying to work out what could possibly be the problem. She'd been pefectly fine last night, and if she'd picked up some kind of bug from work, she was usually the type to just get on with things, rather than mope about feeling sorry for herself whilst ill. He'd not seen her this upset in a long, long while, and it scared him.

"I'm...I'm bleeding," Hermione said, drawing back. Ron looked at her in confusion, as though suddenly expecting to see rivers of blood pouring off one of her limbs. "I mean, not normal bleeding. More than normal. And it's not the right time, and I've got this terrible ache and...Ron, I think we need to get to St. Mungo's."

* * *

_So, this is a new project I'm super excited about! I've been planning this one for ages, and I'm so glad I finally get to share it with you all. This is a post-war, canon-compliant story, featuring most of the Weasleys and their friends, though the main focus will be on Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione – so if you're not a fan of either of those couples, it's probably time to back out now._

_I'm aiming to make this as realistic as possible with regard to the whole pregnancy thing, but I've never had a baby and am relying on the internet for most of my info. So if you have been pregnant and want to correct me on something, feel free. Also, for "the Potion" read "the Pill" – I imagine witches could brew up a contraceptive potion that's basically the same as the contraceptive pill, which would mean that yes, there is a tiny, tiny chance you could get pregnant even if you're taking it correctly, as with the Pill. _

_I'd love to know what you thought of this, so please do drop me a review. I shall update this every Wednesday! _


	2. Blessings and Disguises

**Chapter Two: ****Blessings and Disguises**

"I know you said you didn't want any food, but you should at least have some toast," Ron said, placing the tray down beside Hermione and crawling into bed beside her.

"I don't want..." she began weakly, but he gave her a stern look.

"The Healer said it was important to keep your strength up," he said. "C'mon, just one piece..." he wheedled. Hermione picked up a slice and took the tiniest of bites, then, after a moment, took a second small mouthful. Satisfied, Ron didn't push it. "How are you feeling?" he asked, once she'd made her way through half the slice.

Hermione considered her response. "Surprisingly okay. Still a bit weak and shaky, but the toast is helping. And I don't have any pain anymore, but I think that's more to do with the painkillers they gave me at the hospital..."

Ron nodded. "Well, that's good, isn't it?" he said.

"How about you?" Hermione asked. "How're _you _feeling?"

"Me?" Ron asked. "I'm not the one who had the miscarriage!"

"No – I meant...how are you feeling _emotionally_?" Hermione asked. "It's...well, it's such a shock. Finding out that I was pregnant, then...well, _not_ pregnant in the space of about five minutes."

"It was a bit...I mean, it's definitely a...well, yes, a shock," Ron said. "I know we weren't trying for a baby, but did you have any idea that you might be pregnant? Before this morning, I mean?"

Hermione shook her head. "But Padma told me at the hospital that I was only just over three weeks along – most women don't know until they're about six weeks at the absolute earliest. I mean, I was mostly surprised because I'm on the Potion, which isn't one hundred per cent effective, but the chance of getting pregnant whilst taking it is so, so slim..."

"Would you...I mean, I know we weren't trying, but would you have kept it?" Ron asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "Probably," she said eventually. "I mean...yes, I probably would have. But in some ways...the miscarriage was probably a blessing in disguise. We don't want a baby yet, and we're probably not ready for one. We've only been married three months, for Merlin's sake!"

Ron nodded. "I know," he said. "I was thinking the same thing, when we were at the hospital, once I knew you were going to be okay. I felt awful for thinking that, but..." He trailed off, and Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand.

"No, that's okay," she said. "I think it would be different if we'd been trying for a baby for ages, and we desperately wanted one. But this was just so out of the blue – we found out we'd lost this baby before we found out that I was pregnant, almost. We didn't have time to get attached to it."

"It's like you said before – probably a blessing in disguise, really. We're not ready for a kid...and to be honest, my main concern is that you're okay," Ron replied.

Hermione gave a small smile. "Yes, I'm feeling much better now. Your toast clearly did the job!"

Ron chuckled. "I aim to please. But do you think you'll be okay in the long run?"

Hermione looked puzzled. "Padma said that this miscarriage shouldn't have any effect on any future children we choose to have, and once I've rested for a day or so, I should be perfectly fi—"

"No, no, I mean like...emotionally," Ron said. "You don't...I mean, the thought of being _not _pregnant, when you might have been, is it..." He let out a growl of frustration. "I can't explain myself!"

"I know what you mean," Hermione said soothingly. "No, I'm going to be okay. Like I said, if we'd known I was having a baby, we might have been attached to it and it would have been a worse feeling, but given that that's _not_ the case, I think I'm going to be okay. I mean, I don't know, maybe I'll start to feel sad around pregnant women, but I doubt it. Besides, we don't know anyone who's going to have a baby, so that seems doubly unlikely!"

Ron nodded. "And the thought of being round all the kids – Bill and Fleur's brood, Roxie, Percy and—"

"No, I'll be absolutely fine with seeing them all," Hermione said quickly. "That thought doesn't bother me at all."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked. "Because we don't have to go to Sunday lunch at Mum's tomorrow – we can say you're ill. You _are_ ill!"

Hermione shook her head. "No, we'll go," she said.

"The Healers said—"

"The Healers said that I had to rest and not do anything strenuous for the next couple of days, that I should make sure I get plenty to eat and drink to keep my strength up, and that I should be perfectly fine in a few days' time," Hermione interrupted. "Going to your mother's, to do nothing except sit down and eat a meal I haven't prepared sounds like it fulfils all of that criteria. I'm feeling much better already, and it's only three o'clock! By lunchtime tomorrow, I'd imagine I'll be fine."

"You do have a bit more colour in you," Ron said grudgingly. "But if you _do _feel ill—"

"I'll tell you right away, and we won't go," Hermione said. "But I promise you, I'll be fine."

"Good," he replied firmly. "And hey," he paused, and Hermione turned to him. "I love you."

She gave a tired, but genuine smile, before laying her head on his shoulder. "I love you too."

* * *

"Who're we still waiting for, Mum?" George asked.

His mother looked up from the vegetables she was chopping to survey the room. Percy and Arthur were engaged in conversation in the corner of the room, and Audrey and Angelina were out on the yard, supervising Molly, Roxanne and Lucy as they played together. Ron and Hermione were sat at the table. When they had arrived, Ron had announced that Hermione needed to take things easy as she had had a stomach upset yesterday, causing Hermione to glare at him balefully. They seemed to be engaged in a whispered argument across the table, but their bickering was so normal these days that none of the other Weasleys said anything, and just let them get on with it.

"Just Bill and Fleur now, I think," she said, as with two faint pops, Harry and Ginny appeared on the horizon by the orchard. She raised a hand in greeting, and the pair waved back.

"Speak of the devil," George said, as a very tired looking Bill tumbled out of the fireplace, one daughter in each arm. George took one look at his brother's exhausted face, and scooped up his two delighted nieces, insisting that they go outside to play with the other children.

"'Lo Mum," Bill said, after George had taken his daughters off him.

"Hello love," she said worriedly. "Is everything okay with you? Where's Fleur?"

Bill shook his head. "Vic and Dom have finally recovered from the dragon pox," he said, nodding to the yard where they were running around and shrieking with Roxanne and Percy's two daughters.

"That's good," his mother said. "Teddy's still got it – Andromeda's staying away this weekend..."

Bill nodded. "Well, I'm glad my two are fixed up. But Fleur and I must've got two hours sleep a night at most for three weeks whilst they were ill, and now they're better, they're full of beans again when all we want to do is sleep!"

His mother smiled knowingly. "To be honest," he continued. "I'm not that bad, but Fleur's...well." Molly shot him a look of concern. "She's so exhausted she's feeling sick and dizzy all the time, and she's trying to get ready to go back to work next month as well. I tried to tell her she's doing too much, but she nearly bit my head off! She told me the other day that she never had dragon pox as a child, so I'm wondering if she might have caught it off the girls..."

"It doesn't sound impossible," Molly allowed. "Do you want me to come over and watch the girls at some point, to give her some time off?"

"You can try, but she won't let you. Apolline offered to do the same last week, but she refused – you know what she's like, just too proud. But this morning she could barely stand up straight, so I told her to just have a nap and I'd bring the girls round here for lunch as usual. She just needs to catch up on her sleep, I think," Bill said.

"It sounds like it," Molly agreed. "And I'll send a plate of food round for her later – she can have it for dinner, keep her strength up."

Bill smiled. "Thanks, Mum."

"Nonsense, it's what mothers are for," she said, brushing a piece of lint off his shirt. "Now, seeing as it's such a lovely day, I thought we might eat outside. Why don't you round up your brothers, and—"

"Excuse me, everyone, could I have your attention for a moment please?" Harry called. Everyone's conversations died away, and the adults all turned to face him.

"Not so fast!" George said, pulling Angelina in from the backyard where they had been minding the children. Harry looked surprised. "You may be the Boy Who Lived, but Ange and I have a rather important announcement to make before you start banging on about work," he said, winking at Harry who threw his hands up in surrender and stepped backwards.

"As you've probably guessed from George's none too subtle beginning," Angelina began, grinning.

"Oi you!" interjected George. "This is my announcement. Angelina and I," he said, pausing ever so slightly to smile at her, "Angie and I are going to have another baby!"

There was a beat of surprised silence, then the congratulations began. Angelina was hugged, George was slapped on the back, and many toasts – to Angelina's health and the baby's – were proclaimed. "When are you due, dear?" Molly asked, dabbing at her eyes with a dishcloth.

"End of December, early January," Angelina said. "That's when our little boy will be putting in an appearance!"

"A grandson!" said Arthur in wonder, as though he'd never heard of such a thing before.

"There's still a way to go yet, but...that's what we hope," Angelina said, smiling broadly.

"Sorry for stealing your thunder, Harry," George said, once the round of congratulations had died down again, and the others laughed.

"No no no – my apologies to you, George. I'm about to steal it right back off you, I'm afraid," he said, reaching to take Ginny's hand. "Do you want to do the honours?" he asked, smiling at his wife.

"Why not?" she shrugged. "Angelina and George aren't the only ones going to be hearing the pitter patter of tiny feet in the new year – Harry and I are going to have a baby, too!"

This time, the congratulating went on even longer and seemed even more enthusiastic than it had for George and Angelina. Ron kept repeating the word "Unbelievable!" and slapping Harry on the back rather too hard, and Molly wasn't even trying to disguise her tears of joy at the fact that her only daughter was pregnant. It was a little while before Hermione was able to make her way over to Ginny. "Congratulations!" she said, rather thickly, hugging her friend tightly.

"Thank you!" Ginny gasped. "I mean, it's such a shock, but we're just over the moon, we really are, and—oh, gosh, Hermione, don't you cry too! _I'm _the pregnant one; I'm the one who's supposed to be all emotional!"

Hermione gave a slightly strangled laugh, which caused two more tears to fall down her cheeks. "I'm just happy for you, that's all," she said.

Ginny frowned, looking at the way Hermione's hands were shaking. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked with concern. Ron, seeing what was happening, left Harry (who was being given parenting advice by Bill) and shot over to his wife's side.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked. "After yesterday?"

"What happened yesterday?" Ginny asked, looking between the two of them.

Ron said nothing, but continued to stroke Hermione's back. "Nothing," Hermione said, but Ginny scoffed disbelievingly. "I just...I had a bit of an upset stomach, that's all. I think I've got a bug, and I'm not quite recovered yet... I might go home, if that's okay."

"It's fine," Ron said immediately. "C'mon, I'll take you back."

"I hope you feel better soon," Ginny said, helping Ron guide Hermione over to the fireplace. "It's probably just one of those twenty-four hour things—there's a lot of it about at the moment. I'll tell Mum where you've gone, and we'll catch up in the week, yeah?"

"That sounds good," Hermione said, with a watery smile. "Tell Harry congratulations from me, won't you?"

"Of course," Ginny said. "Now, you get home and put your feet up!"

"I'll make sure she does," Ron said, and in a flurry of floo powder, they were gone.

Hermione picked herself up off the carpet as soon as she arrive in their flat, and went to sit on the one sofa they owned, wiping her face angrily. Ron heard her muttering to herself and caught the words "being silly" so decided to give her a few moments' privacy and went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

By the time he came back with it, Hermione's face was dry, though her hands were still a bit shaky, and she accepted the glass with thanks. "I'm fine," she said immediately. "I was _going _to be fine. But then I started thinking that our baby would have been born at the same time as Harry and Ginny's, and that they'd be best friends, too, and...I'm just being silly, that's all."

"I'd imagine that our kids—if we have kids, I mean—will end up being friends with Harry and Ginny's kids no matter when we have them," Ron said, after some consideration.

Hermione smiled. "I know," she said. "You're right."

"I'm right?!" Ron repeated in mock amazement, clutching at his chest dramatically. "Did you just admit I might be right at something?! _Merlin_."

"Oh shut up," Hermione laughed throwing a cushion at him. She got to her feet. "Look, I really don't fancy staying here and...wallowing. Shall we do something?"

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm feeling fine physically today," she said. "I just don't want to wallow in my own thoughts any longer. We could just do something simple, like go to the Leaky and get some lunch?"

At the mention of food, Ron's stomach growled, and Hermione laughed. "I haven't seen Neville since he got the job at Hogwarts, so we could congratulate him, and it's not like we'll be doing anything strenuous..."

"Alright," said Ron. "But let's wear our disguises?"

"Definitely," Hermione said. "I'm not in the mood to be recognised today."

Their disguises were something they had come up with shortly after the war was over. Sick of being recognised wherever they went—even people who wanted to thank them for their actions often held them up when they were busy—Hermione and Ron had taken to changing their hairstyles whenever they went out to well known wizarding locations like Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, and weren't stopped by strangers as a result. Ron wore his hair in mahogany curls, and Hermione had a straight yellow bob. It wasn't much of a change, but it was enough to fool strangers, and their closest family and friends had got used to seeing them with their 'new' hairstyles by now.

The Leaky Cauldron on a nondescript Sunday in late May was not terribly busy, and so Ron and Hermione – using the code names of Rupert and Emma – were shown to a table in the corner and served quickly by one of Hannah's well-trained waitresses. It wasn't until they had finished their main course that Neville appeared. He spoke to the waitress, who nodded seriously, and headed off back into the kitchens, leaving Ron and Hermione in clear view of Neville.

He seemed slightly dazed, and didn't appear to recognise them, causing the pair of them to exchange glances. "Oi, Nev!" Ron called loudly, and Neville gave a double take, as if startled out of a reverie. Nonetheless, he made his way over to them, pulling up a stool from the adjoining table, which was empty.

"Sorry," he said, by way of greeting. "I didn't recognise you there..." Hermione thought this was strange, given the fact that Neville was actually the one who had suggested their disguises, but chose not to mention it.

"Congratulations!" she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Neville looked horrified. "How do you know?"

Hermione frowned. "Ginny told me, the other week. She said Hannah told her?"

"But...but we only found out today!" he said.

Hermione realised that they must have their wires crossed somewhere, but ploughed on regardless. "Well, anyway, I bet you're looking forward to September?" she said.

"No, no – it's January," Neville replied.

"But I thought Professor Sprout was retiring at the end of the academic years?" she asked, puzzled.

"Professor Sprout?!" he asked. "What're you talking about?"

"Your new job at Hogwarts, you nutter," said Ron with a laugh. "What're _you _talking about?"

"Oh," said Neville. "Oh. _Oh_." Ron and Hermione exchanged quizzical glances. "It's just...we found out today that Hannah's...that we're going to have a baby."

Ron's glance immediately went to Hermione, who realised that he would tailor his reaction to match her own. Immediately, she plastered a warm smile on her face. "Congratulations Neville," she said. "I'm so happy for you and Hannah!"

"Yeah, well done mate," Ron said, slapping Neville on the back.

_Well done?! _Hermione mouthed at her husband, behind Neville's back. Ron gave an apologetic shrug. "Where is Hannah?"

"Oh, she's upstairs, being sick," Neville said, and Hermione winced sympathetically. "She's been sick as a dog morning, noon and night for the past two weeks – I finally persuaded her to get to St. Mungo's this morning, and they told us it's nothing to worry about, she's just...we're going to have a baby."

"Well, that's just lovely, isn't it?" Hermione said.

"Oh, yes," Neville agreed. "I mean, it's incredible. Just incredible! I'm going to be a Dad! Can you imagine?! Well, I mean, it's a total surprise – we weren't exactly trying for a baby, but we're just delighted, Hannah too. I mean, she will be, once she stops throwing up all the time, but I'm sure we can get potions for that. Anyway, we'll have to tell her Dad, and Gran and...yeah. It's been one hell of a day!" He said all this very quickly, with a slightly panicked look in his eyes.

"You know, I might pop up and see Hannah, if that's okay?" Hermione asked. Neville nodded blankly. "And Ron can get you a Firewhiskey, and the two of you can toast the health of Hannah and the baby, yes?"

_No!_ Ron mouthed frantically, but Neville nodded enthusiastically at the idea of a drink, looking mightily relieved. Hermione slipped off upstairs, to Hannah and Neville's quarters above the pub, and left the boys to it.

* * *

"Bathroom's free," Ron said, by way of announcing his presence in the bedroom. Hermione carefully marked her place in her book and looked up.

"I'll clean my teeth then," she said. "Early start at work tomorrow – I'd better get to bed."

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Ron asked.

Hermione waved a hand. "Of course, I'm much better now. Physically, I feel absolutely fine."

"And emotionally?"

"I feel much better than I did at lunchtime," Hermione said. "Weirdly, seeing Hannah helped." Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, I don't think it's crossed either her or Neville's minds to end the pregnancy, and they are incredibly happy. But the news is such a shock to them, and they've got less than a year to completely rethink their lives because of a baby that they weren't exactly trying for. And poor Hannah – she's so, so sick. I was thinking, you know, that would be us. We'd have had less than nine months to prepare for a massive change that would affect us for the rest of our lives – and let's be honest, we're not ready for it yet. So, although I think I would've kept the baby, had I not miscarried...I'm actually quite grateful now that I'm _not _pregnant."

"I know what you mean," Ron nodded. "When I spoke to Neville...he's happy, of course, but still a bit in shock, I think. And he's so nervous about becoming a father."

"I don't know why – he'll make an excellent Dad," Hermione said.

"That's what I said!" answered Ron. "But anyway, I'm glad it's not us just yet. Tell you what, though. It's weird, isn't it? Everyone getting pregnant at once, I mean."

"I was thinking the same thing myself," Hermione answered. "Me and you, _and _Harry and Ginny, _and _Neville and Hannah _and _Angelina and George all managed to get pregnant probably within a fortnight or so of each other! It is weird."

"Must be something in the water," Ron joked, and Hermione laughed.

"Oh don't, I'm just off to clean my teeth now!" she said. She folded a shirt and put it away, then made to leave their bedroom.

"I'll tell you one good thing though," Ron said.

"What's that?" she asked, pausing in the door way.

"In the new year, we can have sex _whenever we want_. The rest of 'em probably won't get that for another two years, at least!" And, for the first time in nearly two days, Hermione laughed and laughed.

* * *

_Thank you very much to the following people who reviewed the last chapter: ChizomenoHime; HogwartsDreamer113; Hplovr123; yellow 14; Minerva2012 and The Golden Marauder (& sister!). Hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	3. Lunch at The Burrow

**Chapter Three: ****Lunch at The Burrow**

"It's not exactly a surprise," Audrey said, as the two of them sat in the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital.

"It's not?" Percy said. He still seemed slightly dazed.

"Well, no," replied Audrey. "Think about it. For the past two weeks, I've been feeling awful every morning and absolutely shattered by the early evening; _and _I've been constantly craving celery. You know I hate that normally – but when I was pregnant with Molly and with Lucy, it suddenly became my favourite food. Speaking of which, I could really go for a celery sandwich right about now..."

"It's half past nine in the morning!" Percy said, surprised.

"Yes," Audrey said, shrugging. "But I'm eating for two now..."

"Is this going to be like that time when you were pregnant with Molly and you sent me off to buy ice cream at two in the morning?" Percy teased.

"I didn't actually want the ice cream," his wife replied. "It was just August, I was heavily pregnant, and it was _your_ fault I couldn't sleep a wink. So I decided that if I had to suffer, you did too."

Percy spluttered indignantly, and Audrey laughed. "It was your mother who taught me that trick," she continued. "She said to just ask your father about the fish fingers and custard incident."

"Fish fingers and...you know, on second thoughts, I won't," Percy said.

Audrey laughed again. "You know, I really, _really_ want a celery sandwich," she wheedled. Percy hesitated, clearly torn as to what to do, but before he could come to a decision, a Healer put her head around the waiting room door.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley?" she called, and Percy put out a hand to offer his wife up ("For Merlin's sake, Percy, I'm not an invalid!") and the two of them entered her office. "Hello, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley. I'm Healer Patil," she said, holding out a hand for them to shake.

"Please, it's Audrey and Percy—for Merlin's sake Perce, I don't need you to help me sit down yet!" Audrey finished, glaring at her husband. "Honestly, I'm barely showing!" she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Just wait 'til I'm as big as a house, _then_ you can carry me everywhere!"

Healer Patil grinned at the two of them. "Very well, Audrey, Percy," she said. "Obviously we got the preliminary test done when you first arrived and established that yes, you are pregnant. But the slightly more informative results are here – at least some of them are – so we thought we'd let you know what's going on seeing as you're here. Now, you're about two months along, so you should be due middle-to-end of January."

Both Percy and Audrey nodded at this, and Healer Patil continued. "According to your notes, this is your third pregnancy, correct? There's actually not a huge gap between when you were pregnant last and now...but I see that was the same with your last two pregnancies – Molly and...Lucy, is it? Yes? We'll have to watch you for excessive tiredness, then, what with you having two children under the age of three and being pregnant, but there's no reason for undue alarm yet. Having said that, do you mind if I ask if you were trying for a baby, or...?"

"We, ah, weren't exactly _planning _on having another child so soon, but we weren't quite not trying either," Percy said, flushing slightly. "Is that a problem, or...?"

"No, no. We might have had to review your birth control regime, but if you're both okay with this development, we can leave it as it is," Healer Patil replied. "Well, like I said, there is absolutely no reason for concern whatsoever at this stage – you seem to be progressing swimmingly. I'd like you to set up regular appointments so we can monitor your progress throughout your pregnancy – you can speak to the receptionist at the Welcome Desk to do that."

"Yes, I remember all that from the last two times," Audrey said. "And that pile of pamphlets on what I can and can't eat, or do, or drink," she indicated a stack of leaflets on the desk, "I've got all of those, too."

Healer Patil laughed. "Well, it seems you're more prepared than me!" she joked. "Do you have any questions before I set you free?"

Audrey shook her head, but Percy held up a hand. "I'd like to know...that is, if my wife does...if it's at all possible for you to tell us what gender the baby will be?" he asked. Audrey recognised that his overly-pompous tone meant that he was quite nervous, and reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Yes, if you can tell us, that would be wonderful," she smiled.

"Very well," Healer Patil said. "The tests have told us that you will be having a little boy."

Percy turned to his wife, but she got there first. "Arthur," she said immediately, and his eyes shone.

"Yes," he replied simply.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Hermione's miscarriage, and she had found herself with a rare morning off work. By now, she was feeling much better– a particularly complicated case at work had kept her mind occupied, and regular appointments with the Healer at St. Mungo's ensured that she was kept physically healthy.

Her pregnancy – brief as it had been – had served to kick her into action. She and Ron lived in a small apartment in London. Their flat was nice enough, but there was nowhere near enough room to bring up a child, and they did hope to have a baby at some point in the future. Her parents lived in the Midlands, and as they couldn't use magic to travel instantaneously, she felt that it would be nice if she and Ron moved closer to them, so they felt involved in any potential grandchild's life.

She'd discussed this with Ron the other day, and he'd agreed that now would be a good time to start looking for new places to live, well before they had the stress of trying to sort out a new house with a new-born in tow. With that in mind, she opened the day's _Prophet _and began flicking through the pages to get to the advertisements. She wasn't yet sure if she'd want to bring up a baby in a purely magical house, or if they would be better off visiting a Muggle estate agent, but there was no harm in looking...

Before she could get to that section of the paper, something caught her eye. Realising it was Rita Skeeter's name in the "Entertainment & Celebrity" section of the paper, she shook her head and was about to turn the page when she saw the headline:

_**Baby Boom for ex-DA!**_

She quickly scanned through the rest of the article.

_Rita's Round-Up is proud to bring you only the freshest gossip, and today we are particularly pleased to share with you the news of not one, not two, but THREE pregnancies among ex members of the group calling themselves 'Dumbledore's Army' during the war. Last week, rising star in the Department of Mysteries, Unspeakable Terry Boot, announced that he and his wife Catherine, nee Montgomery, were expecting their first child in January._

_Not two days later, Pavarti and Ashwin Narwindi announced in these very pages that they, too, were expecting a child. Pavarti (nee Patil) is known to be an excellent Oblivator, and colleagues at the Ministry are said to be delighted. Ashwin rose to fame as one of the most celebrated "anti-Snatchers" during the war, and currently works for the Ministry on the Hit Wizard Squad._

_Finally, this column can EXCLUSIVELY reveal that Susan and Ernie Macmillan are also anticipating a new member of the family in the winter. Susan, who works..._

Hermione stopped reading in disgust. Rita's fawning articles (which annoyed her from a literary standpoint alone with their excessive use of capital letters) may have seemed more likeable had she not spent most of the pre-war years trying to discredit as many members of the DA as possible. And she didn't like to think how she'd come across the news of Susan's pregnancy, if it was a supposedly "exclusive" reveal – neither Susan nor Ernie were the type to court the press. Ernie did have quite a loud mouth, though, and it was feasible that Rita had overheard him proudly boasting of the news. She hoped that the vile woman wasn't up to her old tricks again...

Hermione sighed. The article continued for some pages, ending up bleating on about "a new generation of heroes being born" or some other such rubbish. She couldn't say she envied Neville and Hannah when their news broke officially, and she especially wouldn't want to be in Harry and Ginny's shoes. Neither woman was showing yet, and Ginny's absence from the Harpies squad had been explained away in a press release as her recuperating for a few months after a particularly nasty bought of Dragon Pox. It wouldn't be enough to fool the press forever, but for now, it would do.

She sighed again. She knew that Ginny was dreading the news of her pregnancy going public, and though she hadn't spoken to Hannah, as Neville was almost as famous as Harry, she imagined that his wife felt the same. The papers would have a field day, trying to be the first to get pictures of a heavily pregnant Ginny, or news of the child's birth... She shuddered. One day, that would be her – she and Ron were considered a "2 for 1" as far as famous war heroes went, and their wedding alone had somehow warranted a five page spread in the _Daily Prophet_. Merlin only knew what would happen if she was to get pregnant!

For the first time, she felt something close to relief that she hadn't carried her baby for any longer than she had. The thought of Rita writing a cloying article about her child made her want to scream.

She pulled her diary from inside her desk and made a note to buy many sets of baby clothes around Christmas time. "I should start a crèche, as well. That might make a bit of money, given the amount of pregnancies at the moment," she muttered to herself, before dismissing thoughts of the baby boom from her mind, and turning back to her work.

* * *

Fleur Weasley was not feeling at all well.

This in itself was not altogether that awful – or wouldn't have been, had it not been for the fact that she had been feeling not at all well for the past three weeks, and her husband would not stop nagging her to go St. Mungo's. And it wasn't that she didn't appreciate his concern, but "feeling a bit sick and tired on and off" didn't exactly sound like proper symptoms. Any mother with two young children was bound to experience tiredness; you'd have to be stupid to expect otherwise. Besides, she knew exactly what the Healers' cure would be: relax! Take it easy! Take time off work!

And Fleur just couldn't afford to do that.

She was due to return to work part-time the following week, and she'd had to fight tooth and nail to hang onto her job. It wasn't just the money – Bill's salary was enough to live on, though they had pretty much wiped out their savings, and their Cottage really needed expanding. Her income, even from just a part-time job, would enable them to live a bit more comfortably.

The main reason, however, that she wanted to go back to work was the _principle_ of the act. The goblins – and even some of the wizards – who ran the bank were incredibly old fashioned, and had not heard of the concept of maternity leave. Women who left to have babies could not expect their jobs to be covered by a temp until they returned – if they did return, they had to wait until a position became available, then apply with everyone else and even then, this was no guarantee they would get what could be the job they had been doing themselves just a few short years earlier. As for maternity pay...well, the least said about that the better, Fleur thought!

There were noises being made to change this, but, in the aftermath of the war, these sorts of reforms had been pushed back in favour of more important things, such as rebuilding both the bank, and wizard-goblin relations. Fleur didn't think that these things were more important than securing equal rights for witches who worked at the bank, but then, she supposed, she'd always been unimpressed with the patriarchal system there.

Having worked so hard to get her job back after having her two daughters, she wasn't about to throw it all away now just because she wasn't feeling her best. Being tired was a fact of life now that she had children, and she'd just have to learn to live with it. Besides, she loved her daughters more than anything in the world, except perhaps Bill, and she wouldn't change a thing about them.

Except maybe, just maybe, their ability to unfailingly wake at some time before six every single morning.

Just before midday, she snatched the first five minutes to herself she'd had all day to check her reflection in the mirror before they left to go to her mother-in-law's house for Sunday lunch. They tried to go once a fortnight, and she had missed the lunch two weeks ago, having felt quite ill then, too, so she really couldn't afford to skip out on another gathering unless she wanted Molly fussing around her. Her mother-in-law was well-meaning, but she could also be terribly overbearing.

She blinked mascara over her eyelashes and sighed to herself as she tried to remember the charm for concealing dark circles under her eyes. "You look tired," the mirror told her, and she scowled at it. "Come now dear, that's the way to get frown lines!" it continued.

Fleur said something rude in French under her breath. Sometimes, she wondered if Molly had charmed the mirror – a wedding present from her and Arthur – to be overly critical of her. It was an open secret that she found Fleur too vain...

"What was that, darling?" Bill asked as he passed their bedroom.

"Nothing," Fleur said, managing a smile for her husband. He walked over and dropped a kiss on her head.

"You look beautiful," he said. Fleur shrugged. She knew he was lying to make her feel better – even her Veela powers couldn't fully disguise the haggard look she wore these days – but it worked. "Are you ready to go?"

She nodded. "We should round up zhe little terrors," she replied.

"Little terrors?" repeated Bill, sounding mildly surprised. "I thought they've both been quite well behaved today?"

Fleur opened her mouth to tell him about the fight that had broken out over whose turn it was to play with a doll when he was in the shower; Victoire's tears and lack of cooperation when Fleur had been trying to brush the tangles out of her hair; Dominique's point blank refusal to wear anything other than the same dress she had been wearing for the past two days, regardless of her mother's insistence that she wear something clean; and the state the kitchen had been in after Bill had let the girls get their own breakfast, then closed it again. "You are right," she said. "Zhey 'ave been good. Come on, let's go."

She led the way into the garden and told the girls it was time to get ready to go to Grandma and Grandad's. Fortunately, it didn't take a huge amount of fuss to get them ready, and they arrived at the Burrow only fifteen minutes later.

"Zhere is Roxanne, look," Fleur said to Dominique, bending down to put her on the ground after she had got over the shock of apparition. "Why don't you go and play?"

Dominique ran off obediently to her cousin, and Fleur took the opportunity to sink onto the old wooden bench nearby. Victoire was being fussed over by her Uncle George, and Bill was already deep in conversation with Ron. She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment she had to herself.

"Hello, dear."

Or perhaps not. She turned to her left and saw that Molly, who was wearing an apron over her dress and a had liberal sprinkling of flour on her cheek, had sat down next to her. "Hello," she replied, managing a small smile. "Er – you 'ave..." She gestured to her cheek.

Molly did the same, and laughed at the flour that came away on her hand. "Deary me, I must have been getting over excited with the crumble earlier!" she exclaimed. "You'd think Arthur might have said something...but then, he's lost his glasses again – he's half blind _and _his memory's going! Old age is such a thing to look forward to." She chuckled again and shook her head. "Anyway, dear, how are you?"

"We are all well, zhank you," Fleur said. "Dominique lost 'er first tooth zhe other week, and Bill is—"

"No dear, how are _you_?" Molly asked. "I know how it is when you have children – you lose your own identity in gaining theirs! But you're still a person too – how're you feeling?" She looked at Fleur with such motherly concern that tears pooled in Fleur's eyes before she could stop them. She quickly blinked them away, surprised that they'd come on in the first place. She must be more tired than she thought...

"I am...tired," she confessed. "All zhe time." She sighed. "But that is just part of having children, _non_?"

"Oh, yes," Molly smiled, patting her hand soothingly. "But it _does_ get better soon. Victoire's sleeping through the night now, isn't she?" Fleur nodded. "And it wont be long before little Dominique is too, don't you worry. It's something every mother goes through. I remember, just after the twins were born, there were times when I would have given all the gold in Gringotts just for three hours' uninterrupted sleep!"

Fleur nodded. "I know zhat feeling well," she sighed.

"But look, dear, it's your birthday at the end of the month, isn't it?" Molly asked. Fleur nodded again. "Get Bill to take you away for the weekend. Arthur and I will take the girls—no, I won't hear a word against it!—and you two go off and have a lovely time together. Book into a hotel, get someone else to do all your cooking and cleaning for a couple of days, and just relax."

"Oh, we couldn't possibly—" she began, but Molly cut her off.

"No, I insist," she said firmly. "Arthur and I would _love_ to have the girls, and a naughty weekend somewhere'll get some colour back into your cheeks and do you the world of good! You'll feel like a new woman afterwards," she finished with a wink.

Fleur couldn't help giving a shocked giggle at this proclamation, amazed that her plump old mother-in-law could say something so risqué – and with two of her granddaughters sat within eavesdropping distance. Fortunately, Roxanne and Dominique were far too involved in making their daisy chains than listening into their conversation...

"Come on now, love," Molly said, getting to her feet. "How do you think I got seven children?"

Fleur smiled, already feeling better at the thought of a weekend away. "I will suggest it to Bill, zhen," she said.

"Oh no," Molly shook her head. "You know what men are like! You have to _tell _them what to do. Now, let's sort out this rabble for lunch, shall we?" Fleur followed her up the garden and into the house, intending to help her bring out the plates and food, but just as she stepped into the kitchen, Percy's voice called them back out again.

"Mum, there you are! Ahem! If I could have your attention please," he called, and the chatter among the older generation of Weasleys died down. "I am so terribly pleased to tell you all that...that Audrey and I...that is, we're...what I mean to say is..." With the attention of everyone on him, he was becoming more and more flustered and pompous.

"Oi, Perce, get on with it," George called good-naturedly.

Audrey laughed, and reached over to take her husband's hand. "What he's trying to say is," she said, "Percy and I—well, I'm pregnant!"

The scene that had played out so often over the past few weeks repeated itself yet again, as everyone fell about delightedly congratulating Percy and Audrey. As the Weasleys squeezed in around her, Fleur found herself oddly breathless, suddenly overheating. She was only wearing a sleeveless cotton sundress and it was only just June, but she was suddenly roasting. She needed to back away, get out of the crowd who were now surrounding Percy and Audrey.

She tried to discreetly catch Bill's attention, but he was over the other side of the yard, hugging Audrey and laughing at something she'd said with his back to her. She tried to keep breathing evenly, but it was difficult. She forced down the rising feeling of panic, and concentrated on making her way over to the wall of the house. If she just had something to lean on...

"Fleur? Are you alright?" Several Hermiones swam in front of her, and she blinked hard. It was no use – she was still seeing double.

"I zhink..." she said weakly.

"Ron!" Hermione's voice seemed to be coming from down a tunnel. She became aware of a redheaded someone heading towards her, then her vision shot inwards and then, blessedly, there was nothing.

* * *

_Thank you very much again to the following reviewers: HogwartsDreamer113; finchelromionelover; Rogue200315 (and bump!); nerdyninjaunicorn; Pink Mockingjay (I'm glad you spotted the Rupert/Emma thing!); Toriallison; ; yellow 14; Zalini; guillermina; Minerva2012 (first person to spot what's up!) and The Golden Marauder._

_Also, after that ending, I feel I should clarify that this is not a Weasley-bashing fic ;) I love them really, just enjoy a bit of drama!_


	4. Conversations and Coincidences

**Chapter Four: ****Conversations and Coincidences**

Bill was at his side almost before he'd caught Fleur in his arms. "What happened?!" he asked wildly, helping his youngest brother lay his wife on the floor.

"I dunno," Ron said. "Hermione just called me over and I...I just caught her." He glanced down at Fleur, who looked deathly pale.

"I noticed she didn't look too good, but she didn't say anything," Hermione said, crouching down beside the two of them. "I mean, I asked if she was alright, and I think she was going to reply, but then she fainted. I'm sure it's just the heat, or something, though!" she said, trying to inject a note of cheeriness into her voice.

Bill looked like he hadn't heard her, and was frantically trying to wake Fleur. "Come on, _cheri_, just squeeze my hand if you can hear me!" There was no response from Fleur. They were quickly joined by Molly, who conjured a cushion to place under Fleur's head.

"She has been very tired recently, hasn't she?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes, but..." Bill replied.

Ron looked up, and exchanged nervous looks with Hermione. She shook her head, communicating wordlessly with him that she had no idea what could be wrong with Fleur. It always worried him when Hermione admitted to being clueless.

At the other end of the garden, he could see Harry, Ginny and Angelina trying with limited success to distract the children. George was holding a crying Dominique tightly – the little girl was obviously alarmed at her mother's sudden collapse, and with her still lying there unresponsive on the floor of the backyard, Ron could understand the feeling. Seeing people he cared about lying around unconscious was bringing back unpleasant memories of the war.

"Is she still...?" Percy left the question hanging as he came out of the kitchen, and the only response was a curt nod from Hermione. "Right. Dad's spoken to someone at St. Mungo's on the floo; they're doing to send round a Portstretcher and bring her in for observation. We'll meet them outside the house and bring them through the wards," he said.

"Of course," said Molly. "We won't move her until they get here." The minutes ticked on, and Fleur still lay on the ground. "Don't you worry, love," Molly said soothingly, stroking Bill's back. "She'll be fine, you'll see. She's just overworked, with two small children. It happens to the best of us!"

"Oh Merlin, what about the girls?!" Bill said, craning his neck to see where his children are.

"Don't you worry about them—Percy and I will take them home with us," Audrey said bracingly. "We've got plenty of room, and we'll make it into a sleepover for them with Molly and Lucy, to distract them. They'll be absolutely fine!"

"Thanks," Bill said shortly, his attention back on his wife now he knew that his children would be well looked after. "Mum, will you and Dad...?"

"Of course we're coming with you," Molly said, and Bill sighed in relief.

"We'll come too," Ron said. Hermione looked up in surprise. "That way, as soon as there's any news, we can let everyone know and you can all stay at the hospital. If you need to, that is."

"Thanks mate," Bill said. A sudden clatter announced the arrival of a small group of Healers, with Percy and Arthur, who were levitating a stretcher that was glowing faintly blue.

Ron and Hermione drew back to allow them access to Fleur, and Hermione went off to fill the others in on the plan. It was horrible, Ron thought, just how quickly the mood could change. One moment, they'd all be utterly delighted to celebrate Percy and Audrey's happy news; the next, they were frantically trying to bring Fleur around and growing increasingly alarmed at her unresponsiveness. Though he knew that, logically, the chance of her fainting episode being connected to Dark Magic was about as high as the chance it would suddenly start snowing on this hot summer's day, he couldn't help be reminded of the uncomfortable parallels with the war.

He shook himself. Bill and Fleur had both done so much for him during the war, and afterwards – he wasn't going to waste time being paranoid now when he could be repaying them. It was time to pull himself together and get to the hospital. Bill, especially, would need him.

* * *

Neither Ginny nor Harry had been able to settle down to anything once they'd cleared up the unserved lunch at The Burrow and returned to their own house, and so it was with quite a bit of relief that they noticed Ron's relaxed demeanour as he stepped out of the fireplace at just gone five.

Harry especially had been worrying about the effects of the afternoon's stress on Ginny and the baby she was carrying, but when he brought this up with her, she'd only snapped at him to stop fussing, and he didn't want to risk an argument. His overzealous—though well meant—caring and her irritability with him—though largely caused by her hormones—meant that the air between them had been distinctly frosty. However, when Ron's first words were "She's going to be fine!" and Ginny sank down on the sofa, burying her face in her hands, he decided that it would not be wise to point out how much Ginny used to hate Fleur, and instead sat down beside her and rubbed her back gently.

"'M fine," she said, in a muffled voice. "It's just these bloody hormones." She sat up and glared at him. "It's all your fault, Potter."

"I don't recall you complaining at the time," he teased.

"Guys, please," Ron scowled.

Harry grinned at him. "Sorry, mate," he said, sounding completely unapologetic. "Have you got time for a butterbeer?"

Ron nodded and took a seat, and Harry summoned two butterbeers and a pumpkin juice. Ginny wrinkled her nose. "So," she said, instead of cracking open the bottle of pumpkin juice, "Did they find out what's wrong with Fleur? You don't just faint like that for no reason..."

To the Potters' surprise, Ron let out a chuckle. "You're not going to believe this, but the reason she's been so tired and ill lately, and the reason she fainted today...it's because she's pregnant, too!" Harry and Ginny let out loud exclamations of shock. "I swear in Merlin's name, it's true! Mum nearly fell over when she heard the news, and Bill and Fleur were pretty flabbergasted, too. I mean, I know they're married and have two kids already, but apparently they hadn't really talked about having any more just yet. Fleur was just about to go back to work, as well."

"Seriously, what're the chances of that happening?" Harry said, shaking his head. "Me and you, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey _and_ Bill and Fleur all having kids at once! We should buy shares in the wool industry before your Mum starts knitting all the bootees..."

"You know what this means though, don't you Ron?" Ginny teased, feeling immensely light-hearted now that she knew Fleur would be alright. "You and Hermione'll be next! You just watch out now."

Harry laughed, but Ron's face clouded. "What?" Ginny asked. "She's not already pregnant, is she?!"

Ron seemed to be struggling with himself for a moment, and didn't reply. "Mate?" Harry asked.

"Hermione...was pregnant," Ron said eventually. "A few weeks ago, she had a miscarriage. She's totally fine now!" he said quickly, holding up his hands to Harry and Ginny's questions. "She was only three weeks gone, so we didn't even know about it until it was all over so to speak, and like I said, she's fine now. But...if you could keep it to yourselves, yeah? We haven't told anyone, except the Healers at St. Mungo's when we were there..."

"Merlin, Ron, I'm so sorry," Harry said. "I had no idea..."

"It's fine," Ron said, shaking his head. "She's _completely_ fine now – I mean, it happened over two weeks ago now, and you've seen her plenty since. You know she's okay. We weren't even planning on having children just yet, so in some ways, it's a relief."

Ginny got to her feet. "Wha—" began Harry.

"I have to go and see her," she said, tugging on the pair of flats she'd been wearing earlier. "I need to say sorry—I've been talking non stop to her about my pregnancy all the time and I didn't even _think_ that she might've...that she..."

"Gin, it's not your fault, you couldn't have known!" Harry said, alarmed at his wife's sudden moodswing, which was only partially, he was sure, due to her pregnancy hormones. "Why don't you just sit down, and we'll—"

"No, I have to go and see her," Ginny said frantically, before rounding on Ron. "Is she up for visitors?"

Ron looked startled. "Well, I mean, yes, she's at home. We just got back from the hospital—and look, she's been fine with your pregnancy, and she was totally fine when Bill told us about Fleur. We're sad about the miscarriage, but that doesn't mean we're not happy for you guys..."

"I should still go and see her," Ginny replied, though she seemed slightly less frantic thanks to her brother's reassurances. "She'll need some female conversation. You stay here, keep Harry company," she said to Ron, in a tone that booked no argument. "I'm going to floo over now."

It didn't take her long to reach the flat Ron and Hermione shared, and Hermione herself poked her head out of the kitchen door when she arrived, having clearly heard the floo spring to life. "Ginny!" she said in surprise. "Is everything okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that!" Ginny replied, throwing her arms around Hermione.

"I...what?" asked Hermione, patting Ginny on the back in a rather confused manner.

"Sorry," sniffed Ginny. "It's just these damn hormones—they're making me so _weepy_ all the time and I _hate _it because I _never _cry and—"

"Alright, okay, calm down!" said Hermione, alarmed. "Come on, have a seat," she guided Ginny over to the sofa and sat down beside her. "Now, what's wrong? Is this about Fleur? I thought that Ron went to tell you that she's going to be okay—more than okay, she and Bill are having a baby! Now that they know what it is, the Healers are sorting her out with the right potions, so she won't faint or be tired, and—"

"No, it's _you_!" Ginny wailed. "R-Ron told me about what h-happened to you, about your miscarriage, and I—"

"Oh, Ginny!" cried Hermione, rubbing her back in soothing circles. "It's okay, I promise. We were upset, of course we were, but everything's fine now, and we're so happy for you and Harry!" This only made Ginny cry harder, and it was nearly ten minutes before she calmed down enough to talk.

"Sorry," she hiccupped eventually, and Hermione, looking very relieved that her tears had run their course, simply waved a hand airily.

"It's fine!" she said. "It's just your hormones, it's perfectly understandable."

"It's not," Ginny sniffed, summoning a handkerchief.

"It's not?" repeated Hermione, puzzled.

"Well, I guess it mostly is," Ginny said. "I don't usually cry at all, so these bloody hormones must be the reason for some of it. But I was crying because..." she drifted off, and when it became clear she wasn't going to go any further, Hermione nudged her.

"Because...?"

"Because...and I haven't even told Harry this," Ginny said, looking quite terrified, "because I've been feeling guilty because I'm not one hundred per cent sure I want this baby. And I felt awful enough about that—you don't even have to begin to tell me what a terrible person I am!—and then Ron said that the two of you had lost your baby, and I just..." She gave another sob.

"Oh, Ginny, no—you're _not_ a terrible person!" Hermione said. "You must have your reasons for not being one hundred per cent sure you want the baby?"

It was as though she'd opened a floodgate: out came all of Ginny's woes and worries, even the ones she hadn't been able to share with Harry. She felt that they were too young, and she wanted more time with just the two of them as a couple. She resented having to give up playing Quidditch at the height of her career, and worried about the impact Harry's job—with its long, irregular and dangerous hours—would have on the baby once he or she was born. She was scared she wouldn't know what to do when the baby was born, and that having the baby would change her relationship with Harry. She wanted to work once the baby was old enough, as she had no desire to turn into her mother, but she didn't know how that would be possible.

"And I'm not going to have an abortion, of course I'm not," she sniffed, "but I'm just not ready. I know everyone says that when they find out that they're pregnant, but I'm really not ready. We didn't _want_ to be ready, me and Harry—that was why I was taking the Potion! And it bloody failed. Bloody thing!"

At this, Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "What?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"You sounded just like Ron, then," Hermione said.

"Oh Merlin help us all!" Ginny replied, but she chuckled a little, too.

"Look," Hermione said, "it's okay not to feel ready for this. It's pretty much the biggest change you can ever make in your life, having a baby—it would be strange to _not_ be stressed about it. And especially if you weren't planning on getting pregnant, well, no wonder it's a shock! But there must be some good about it, right?"

"Well, Harry is absolutely over the moon," Ginny said. "And I am too, at times. The rest of the time, it's like everything inside me is screaming in terror at what's going to happen in six and a half months' time. Though, that could just be the hormones..."

Hermione laughed. "Well there you go—it's not all bad, is it? And you know, what you said about not wanting to turn into your mother is perfectly acceptable. When I had the miscarriage, it made me start thinking about babies, and I've already decided that I'm not going to be a stay-at-home mother for the rest of my life. I'll have to take some time off, of course, when the baby's very young, but once it gets a bit older, I'll go back to work part-time, then full-time once it's old enough to go to Hogwarts." Ginny hid a smile at this—it was just like Hermione to have a detailed plan for all eventualities, even ones that were still a few years away. "Surely you can do something similar—you know, go back part-time once your baby gets old enough?"

Ginny bit her lip. "Well..." she looked around furtively, as though expecting to find eavesdroppers hidden behind Hermione's bookcase, before continuing. "I'm going for an interview tomorrow morning, with the _Daily Prophet_. One of their Quidditch correspondents is retiring, and they want someone to take on the role. It's only two days a week at the moment, but they're very flexible with what two days you work as long as you get your copy in on time. And you can work from home, too, if you'd prefer...so all in all, it sounds pretty good."

"I'll say!" Hermione enthused. "Congratulations, Ginny!"

"Don't congratulate me yet," Ginny said. "I've got my interview tomorrow, and there's no guarantee I'll get the job. So, uh, if you wouldn't mind not telling anyone about it until then..."

"Of course," nodded her friend in understanding. "Does Harry know?"

"Yes, but that's it," Ginny said. "You can tell Ron, if you'd like, but no one else, please. I really want to get the job—I'm going crazy doing nothing at home all day, but I obviously can't continue playing Quidditch..." She sighed, a little wistfully.

"Once the baby's born, though..." Hermione began tentatively, but Ginny shook her head.

"I won't go back to it," she said. "It's really not the sort of career you can pursue once you've had kids. My body'll probably change shape, anyway, and that could affect my playing. I'm not going to lie, I'd have preferred to get a few more seasons under my belt before I had to stop playing, but I do enjoy writing, so if I can get this job at the _Prophet_, that'd be the next best thing. Lots of people have it much worse."

"They do," agreed Hermione.

Ginny misunderstood her. "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bring up what happened to you again, honestly, I didn't! I just meant—"

"Ginny, Ginny, it's okay! It's okay, I promise," Hermione said, cutting across her friend's tirade of apologies. "_Honestly_. Ron and I are fine about what happened. Actually..." she bit her lip, and Ginny turned towards her, sensing that she was about to say something serious. "We were obviously very upset about what happened, but I can't pretend I don't feel some relief about no longer being pregnant. It would _not _have been good timing for us—I mean, obviously Ron and I love each other very much, but there's a reason we weren't exactly trying right now, you know?"

"Mmm," sighed Ginny. "Hey—Hermione?" she asked suddenly, sitting up much straighter. "You're on the Potion, right? As birth control, I mean."

"Yes?" Hermione replied, unsure where she was going with this.

"Me too," said Ginny. "Or at least, I was. That was why it was such a shock to find out I was pregnant. I was at work when I found out, having a routine medical, and Kristina—that's one of the Mediwitches at the Harpies—said that it can have something like a one per cent failure rate, even if it's taken correctly. At the time, I thought I was just that freaky one per cent; it had to happen to _someone_, so it happened to me, right? But now you're saying that it failed for you, too, and given how surprised Bill and Fleur were to find out they were going to have another baby...well, I'd be willing to bet she was using some form of birth control that failed. And that it was probably the Potion—it's the most common form after all..."

"That's a good point," Hermione said.

"Do you think maybe this particular batch of the Potion could have become contaminated somehow? These things do happen, you know—I remember when I was about eight and there had to be a recall on Pepper-Up Potion that had been sold after a certain date because someone had forgotten to add an ingredient or something, and it was utterly useless," Ginny said, warming to her theme. "The same thing could have happened here."

Hermione shook her head. "It's a good theory, Gin, but it doesn't hold up—I don't buy my Potion from the Apothecary, I make it. So even if their batch did have something wrong with it, it wouldn't be that which affected me. I think," she said, after a pause, "it's just a coincidence."

"You're probably right," said Ginny. "I think I've been spending too much time around Harry; I keep seeing Dark Magic plots everywhere!"

"I'll have to start calling you Mad-Eye Moody!" joked Hermione, and Ginny laughed, getting to her feet.

"I should get going, before the boys start to worry," she said.

"Are you sure you're okay about everything?" Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded. "It's just been a shock, really, and all these damned hormones mean I'm having an emotional crisis every five seconds, or so it feels like! But even though this isn't exactly how we planned it, I _am_ happy about having a baby with Harry," she said, managing a smile.

"Well I'm glad to hear it," Hermione said, returning her smile. "But seriously, any time you need to talk about it—or anything, really—just come on round."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny replied. "I appreciate it. And the same goes for you—I know you said you were okay about what happened, but if you do want to talk at all...I'm right here."

"I appreciate that, too," Hermione said. "Do you want to floo back?"

"Please," said Ginny. "I hardly apparate these days—it can be dangerous for the baby, so I've read, and I'd rather not risk it..."

"Of course," said Hermione, passing her the box of floo powder. "And good luck with your interview!"

"Thanks, Hermione!" said Ginny. "I'll send your husband back when I get in."

"Urgh, must you?" joked Hermione, and, laughing, Ginny departed.

Hermione pottered around her small flat as she waited for Ron to return, but she couldn't help thinking about Ginny's theory as to why there were suddenly so many pregnancies among the women they knew. A contaminated batch of the Potion didn't really hold up, but there could be other factors at play. With both Audrey and Fleur now pregnant as well as Ginny and Angelina, and many of her old school friends, the whole thing had definitely gone past purely coincidental and was rapidly approaching possibly dangerous territory...

"Hermione? I'm home!"

She jumped as she heard Ron's voice. "Kitchen!" she called in response. "No," she told herself firmly, "you're being ridiculous. It _has_ to just be a coincidence. If you carry on seeing conspiracy theories at every turn, it'll be you turning into Mad-Eye, not Ginny..."

And, as the early evening sunlight shone in through the kitchen window and she and Ron argued playfully over what takeaway to get for dinner, it was indeed hard to imagine mysterious and possibly even Dark entities plotting to get women pregnant.

For now...

* * *

_Thank you, as usual, to everyone who reviewed: Wizard of the night; finchelromionelover; nerdyninjaunicorn113; HogwartsDreamer113; ChizomenoHime; Minerva2012 and Zalini. Another thank you goes to everyone who's favourited/followed this, but if you are going to do that, would you mind leaving me a review telling me why you did that? I appreciate it :)_


	5. Suspicions Confirmed

**Chapter Five: ****Suspicions Confirmed**

"Excuse me, Madam Granger? I mean, Madam Weasley?" Hermione looked up from her notes to find a very anxious looking girl fidgeting in front of her desk.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling at her in the hope of making her more at ease. The girl—Helen—had only finished Hogwarts a year ago, and worked as the Personal Assistance to one of the Law Office clerks. She was nice enough, but completely scatter-brained, and usually turned up in the wrong office at least three times a day, taking a message intended for one person to completely the wrong end of the Ministry.

"I've got some papers Mr. Straithwait has sent over for someone in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to sign, Madam Granger-Weasley," Helen said, nervously thrusting a sheaf of paper in her face.

Hermione bit back a sigh. "These can only be signed by the Head of Department, Helen. That's Hestia Jones, not me," she said, as patiently as she could. She wouldn't mind, except for the fact that she clearly remembered having this exact conversation with Helen not two days ago...

"She's not there, Madam," Helen said, now looking positively petrified.

"Not...?" Hermione got up from behind her desk, leaving Helen hopping from foot to foot, and stuck her head around the door of the office next to hers. Sure enough, Hestia Jones, ex-Order member and her immediate superior, was not in her office. Hermione picked up the single piece of parchment on her desk.

_Hermione—_

_My apologies, but I have had to leave work early due to a family emergency. I am unavailable for contact with regard to work related matters until further notice. I would sincerely appreciate your covering for me at this time._

_Apologies again, Hestia_

Hermione frowned. She had been working her way up the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures since she left school, and had worked closely with Hestia, who was helping her draft her House Elf Rights' Bill, from the beginning. In all that time, she had not known her to take a single day off work. Her family was small too; her husband had been killed in the war, and she only had one child, a girl named Megan who had been in Hermione's year at school, though she hadn't known her well. She hoped everything was alright...

"Madam?" Helen had worked up the courage to follow her inside the office.

"Leave the papers with me, I'll see what I can do," she instructed the girl. "And please tell Mr. Straithwait that Madam Jones has had to take a personal day, and so I cannot guarantee he'll get them back before the weekend."

"Of course, Madam Granger-Weasley," Helen said, fleeing as soon as she'd finished her sentence.

As second in the Department, Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon covering for Hestia, as well as trying to do her own job. She worked out that she must have left during Hermione's lunch break – she had been there before she left for the Ministry canteen to grab a sandwich with Ron, but she hadn't seen her leave. Sure enough, when she questioned the other staff in the Department, she discovered that this was when Hestia had left, though she wasn't able to discover anything else about the situation other than the fact that Hestia had apparently looked very worried and said that it was a family emergency.

She ended up leaving work nearly half an hour late because of this, and didn't have time to change before leaving for Lavender's birthday drinks, at the Dragon and Snitch, a fashionable nightclub on the edge of Diagon Alley.

"Well look at this! Hermione Granger late for something! The invitations said Friday the tenth of June at _five_ pm, not nearly five forty-five. What happened, have to go for a quick one with Ron before hand?!" Lavender's voice called across the bar, and Hermione blushed.

After the war was over and they both returned to school for an eighth year, she and Lavender had become much better friends. Hermione knew her well enough to know that she was only teasing when she said that, but she still didn't appreciate her calling it out across the bar, and told her so.

"Oh, rubbish. It's my birthday, I can do whatever I want! Particularly as no one else is going to show up, the idiots," she said good-naturedly.

"Why ever not?!" Hermione asked. "One butterbeer, please," she added, to the barman.

"And I'll have another Firewhiskey while you're at it," Lavender said. Hermione raised her eyebrows at the word 'another', but chose not to question it. It _was _Lavender's birthday, after all...

"Well, you know how I sent out invitations for us ladies to have a girly night out on my birthday _ages_ ago?" Lavender asked, accepting her drink eagerly. "I didn't count on everyone else getting themselves bloody knocked up!"

She drained her glass in one, as Hermione took a modest sip of Butterbeer. "I can see why they wouldn't want to come out drinking if they're pregnant," Hermione said. "It wouldn't be much fun to just have pumpkin juice all night, would it?"

"I s'pose," Lavender said. "Anyway, sounds like they're not having much fun anyway! Pavarti says that the smell of alcohol makes her want to die, and Hannah's sick as a dog, morning, noon and night. Rather them than me!"

"Rather them indeed," murmured Hermione. The bar was still fairly empty – it was still quite early for a Friday night. "Is there really no one else coming?"

"Nope," replied Lavender, indicating for the barman to bring her another glass. "Ginny and Susan have got a bun in the oven as well; Luna's out the country on some mad expedition or another and Padma's either at work or spending her time looking after Pavarti and the baby. Her husband's apparently useless with dealing with her mood swings—though I guess that's men for you, isn't it?"

Hermione gave a non-committal reply, and Lavender continued her chattering. Hermione was concerned about how much she was drinking, but though she argued internally with herself, (_"She'll make herself ill! But it's her birthday! But she's not having fun! But it's what she wants to do!")_ she couldn't bring herself to stop her.

Three drinks later, with Hermione still on her first Butterbeer, the tears started. Hermione wished that now, more than ever, someone else had turned up – though she got on much better with Lavender these days, she didn't want to be dealing with her having some kind of drunken breakdown alone. "_You're_ not pregnant, are you, Hermione?" she sniffed.

"Oh, no!" Hermione said quickly. The question was an odd one, and she found herself wondering if Lavender had heard about her miscarriage from anyone. But the only people who knew, aside from herself and her husband, were Harry and Ginny (and neither of them were exactly the gossiping sort, particularly over such a personal matter) and the staff at St. Mungo's who had treated her (but they were bound by the Hippocratic Oath to keep silent). It was probably just a coincidence, Hermione thought, as she awkwardly patted Lavender's shoulder. She _was_ drunk, after all.

"S'good," Lavender snuffled. "I'm not either. But, I was."

"What's that now?" Hermione said soothingly.

"I was preg'nt," Lavender said. "But I lost the baby. I had a-a-a-miscarriage." She dissolved into tears, and Hermione gathered her into her arms, soothing her. The tears had come on so suddenly because Lavender was drunk, she realised, but they were genuine, and it explained why she had been so 'off' all evening. It was a horrible thing for her to have gone through; something Hermione understood herself first-hand.

"Come on, Lav, let's get you home," she said, heaving her friend to her feet. She left a generous payment on the bar, and staggered out of the Dragon and Snitch, a still-weepy Lavender clinging to her. Fortunately for Hermione, the flat Lavender shared with Seamus above one of the shops was a short walk down the Alley, and it didn't take long for them to reach her apartment, even with Lavender in the state she was in.

Seamus was out—"Gone to watch the footy with Dean," Lavender said, slurring slightly—and so Hermione helped her into her bed and went into the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water. By the time she returned, Lavender had stopped crying, and she obediently drank the water Hermione offered her, closing her eyes and leaning back against the pillows once she'd finished the glass.

Hermione herself felt rather at a loss for what to do for her. Whilst, during their eighth year at school together, she and Lavender had become much better friends than they had ever been before—it was hard not to become close to the people who had shared in the horrific experiences of the war—she was still not Lavender's best friend, and Hermione found herself wishing that Pavarti, or anyone else, really, was there with her.

Before she could decide what to say to her, however, Lavender herself spoke up. "Sorry," she sighed, sounding marginally less drunk. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

"It's a hard time," Hermione nodded, understandingly. "I know. I, er..." She swallowed. It was a surprisingly hard thing to say, even to someone who had gone through the same thing so recently, someone who understood...

"You...as well?" Lavender asked, wide-eyed and fumbling slightly over what words to use. Hermione nodded, feeling her eyes fill with tears. She wasn't quite sure what had brought this on—she was, as she kept insisting, absolutely fine now. But perhaps it was something about the understanding in Lavender's eyes that momentarily unseated her: Lavender had gone through exactly the same thing, and even Ron, much as she loved him and much as he had been there for her throughout, couldn't understand on the same level as another woman, a friend, who'd been through the same thing could...

Lavender took her hand in her own, and the two women sat quietly together for a moment. Hermione wiped her eyes with her free hand, took a deep breath, and said bracingly, "But, you know, it will be okay in the end. Time helps with everything, doesn't it? And I've got my final follow-up appointment with the Healers soon—the other ones have been fine, so as long as this one is too, I can start trying for a baby whenever Ron and I want. It'll be okay. And it'll be the same for you, you'll see! Before you know it, you and Seamus will have—"

"No," said Lavender, her voice harsh as she cut across her. "No, it won't. I...the reason my miscarriage happened was because of me—well, what I am. Not fully werewolf, I know, but...enough that I can never have children. Fenrir Greyback took that off me, as well. The Healers have run every test imaginable, but it all comes down to one thing: my body just can't carry a baby. If I get pregnant, I'll just miscarry after a few weeks."

"Oh, Lavender..." Hermione squeezed her hand tightly, and Lavender clung on tightly. The two women sat in near silence; Lavender's breathing slowed, but she did not fall asleep, despite the alcohol and her earlier hysteria. By the time Seamus arrived home nearly an hour later, Hermione felt, surprisingly, better, and, from the watery but genuine smile Lavender gave her as Seamus fussed over her, she knew that Lavender did too, at least a little, as she took her leave.

"How was it?" Ron asked, looking up from the paperwork he was filling out in their bed. "Have a good time?"

"Mmm," Hermione said, kicking off her shoes and crawling onto the bed next to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, setting down the paperwork with concern.

"I am," she assured him, leaning into him. He started stroking her hair. "I am okay. And I love you. Very much," she added seriously, sitting up and staring at him.

Ron did not question this sudden pronouncement at all. "I love you very much, too."

Everything would work out. It _had _to.

* * *

"Hestia! Is everything okay?"

Arriving into work early on Monday morning, Hermione was pleased to see her boss back in the office—not only because it reduced her workload, but because her very presence indicated that whatever family emergency had occurred had righted itself enough that she was able to leave her home. Hestia Jones looked tired and like she had had a rather difficult weekend, but the fact remained that she was in work, and not rushing off with little explanation.

"Hello, Hermione," Hestia said, beckoning her into the office. "How are you?"

"I'm very well," Hermione said immediately. "But what about you?" she added with concern.

"_I'm_ fine," Hestia said. Hermione gave her a questioning look, and Hestia sighed. "My daughter, Megan, was taken very ill suddenly on Friday. They couldn't contact her husband straight away, so St. Mungo's sent for me. I do apologise for leaving you in the lurch like that."

"Oh, no, not at all—I completely understand," Hermione said. "Give Megan my best—I hope she has a speedy recovery!"

"She should do," said Hestia. She glanced at the open door, and pushed it to slightly. "Megan was pregnant, but unfortunately, she had a miscarriage on Friday. That was the 'illness'," said Hestia.

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione. "I really am, Hestia, that's awful..."

"Yes, well, Megan is rather devastated—as we all are, really," said Hestia, "but she received excellent care at St. Mungo's, and as long as she takes some time off work to recover, she should be fine in the long run. It's terrible about the baby, of course, but she was only a couple of months along, so..."

"Of course, of course," said Hermione, feeling rather uncomfortable with how close to home this was hitting.

"She will improve with time," Hestia said more confidently. "Anyway—about the draft for this Bill, I've had a couple of thoughts about how we should word the latter clauses, to ensure all the loopholes are closed..." Hermione recognised the subject change for what it was, and allowed Hestia to talk her through the latest draft of the House Elf Rights' Bill.

* * *

"No Ron today?"

"No, he got held up at work," Hermione answered Padma's question.

"Of course," said Padma. As Hermione's Healer, she understood the need for secrecy at work, and so didn't press her for details. "Right, if you could just pop up on the table for me, we'll be able to start," she said, getting straight to business.

After a quick but thorough examination and a few questions, Padma—or Healer Patil, as she was today—seemed satisfied. Hermione had arrived at the hospital for her final follow-up appointment after her miscarriage, but as she had not had any issues since the event, she had suspected that this would be the case. "I'm just going to wait for the results of your blood test to come through," she said to Hermione, nodding to a table in the far corner of the room where letters and numbers were shimmering magically in the air above a vial of Hermione's blood, "but barring any problems there, you should have a clean bill of health. Everything is as it should be, and you're fully recovered, physically, from your miscarriage. Do you have any questions whilst we wait?"

Hermione hesitated. She _did_ have a question—one she'd been pondering all afternoon, since she'd learned of Hestia's daughter's miscarriage—but it had little to do with her own appointment with Padma. What she wanted to ask was how it was possible for so many women to be pregnant at once: Hermione had dismissed the idea of it just being a coincidence, as it seemed that everyone she knew was having a baby, and that wasn't an exaggeration. Magic could affect many things, she knew, but she also knew that her knowledge of medical magic beyond very basic Healing Charms was very limited. Padma, who had trained as a Healer with a specialism in Gynaecology, would be far more likely to know if there was a way to magically increase the number of women who got pregnant in a given time, or...

"Hermione?" Padma prompted.

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I do have one question, actually, but it's a bit of a strange one."

"Well, go ahead and I'll do my best to answer it!" Padma said.

Hermione thought for a moment. She needed to be careful how she worded the question—she didn't want to arouse suspicions unnecessarily. "I was wondering if there is any way magic can be used to help a pregnancy along, so to speak," she said. Padma looked puzzled for a moment. "Well—not quite help it along, but help it get started. A way to make sure you conceive. Like Muggles have IVF; I know that's not foolproof but it helps...actually, I don't know how much you know about—"

"I know about IVF—my Aunt is a Muggle, and she works as a Doctor up in Leeds," Padma said, clearly considering her response. "We don't have a version of that; as in, we don't fertilise an egg outside the body and then reinsert it, like they do. But...there _is_ a way to ensure you conceive, within certain parameters."

Hermione leaned forward eagerly. "Could you tell me more about it?"

Padma hesitated, glancing over at the blood sample. Hermione followed her gaze; the numbers and letters were still swirling around over the top of it, which she took to mean that the spells were still in progress, leaving Padma unable to change the subject. "Well," she began "there is a potion you can take. It's called the Pregnancy Guaranteeing Potion—although that's something of a misnomer—and it was invented in the 1950s by Damocles Belby."

The name rang a bell for Hermione. "The same man who invented the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"The very same," Padma nodded, warming to her subject. "He was a very talented Potioneer, but unfortunately even someone with his level of skill could invent something that works one hundred per cent of the time. The potion itself is basically a massive dose of hormones, and some standard potions ingredients, which the woman can take at any time during her cycle. Only one dose is needed, as it stays in the body for the length of one entire menstrual cycle—so it's quite a powerful potion. If, within that time, an egg comes into contact with a viable sperm cell, fertilisation is guaranteed."

"But there are exceptions?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," said Padma. "If the man or woman is infertile, the potion will not override that, so to speak. An egg must come into contact with a sperm cell—so if you are single, or in a relationship with a woman, it will not work."

"But I thought that sperm and eggs were guaranteed to come into contact, if you're not using birth control?" asked Hermione.

"No, not at all," Padma shook her head. "A woman is only fertile for a few days, and sperm cannot survive inside the female body for long at all. Often, they will die long before they can reach an egg cell. But, in very crude terms, the potion works to keep the sperm fresh, as it were, until an egg is released, whilst at the same time guaranteeing the release of an egg. So it may take a while for the fertilisation to happen, but it almost certainly will—unless, of course, there are other reasons for infertility, such as a pre-existing genetic condition."

"Or you're using birth control, I suppose?" asked Hermione, her heart starting to beat faster. This potion sounded like it could be used to increase the number of pregnancies among the women she knew...but most, she knew, were taking some form of birth control. _And besides_ she told herself _you don't have any reason for anyone to try to ensure that they all took this potion..._

Padma was shaking her head. "The potion will effectively override any hormonal birth control—like the Contraceptive Potion, or its Muggle equivalents—but it cannot override barrier methods, like condoms, unless they are not used correctly, as they basically work to stop sperm and eggs meeting. But I must add, Hermione, that this potion's use is very strictly controlled by St. Mungo's. It's only used as a last resort in cases where women have been trying desperately for years to get pregnant, when all other options have failed. And its use is especially tightly controlled because in the wrong hands it could be used to control women by forcing them to bear children—I'm sure you can imagine the concerns we might have over this. So if you and Ron are trying for children, there are many other options we can explore for you before we try something as drastic as that potion."

"Oh, no, it wasn't for me!" Hermione said hurriedly. "I was just...er...interested in what magic can do." Padma did not look entirely convinced by this, but she was distracted by Hermione's blood tests being complete. After giving her a completely clean bill of health and insisting that should she start trying for a baby again, she wouldn't be affected by her previous miscarriage, Padma let her go.

Hermione apparated to St. James's Park. It wasn't far away, and she had taken a half day at work, unsure how long her appointment would take. It had actually finished quicker than she had thought—it was only three o'clock now—but instead of going back to work, she brought an ice cream from a Muggle vendor with some change she found in her purse, and sat down on a bench in the sunshine. It was a pleasantly warm summer's day—not yet oppressively hot, but still warm enough to sit out in just the short sleeved blouse and skirt she was wearing—and she had been given by her Healer a clean bill of health. For once, she wasn't unduly worried about Ron and Harry in the Auror Department—unless something had dramatically changed since this morning, the work they were doing wasn't particularly dangerous at that moment in time, and outside of work, things were going well for both her parents and her in-laws.

By all rights, she should have been feeling happy, but what Padma had just told her was playing on her mind and making her feel very uneasy. She had been prepared to dismiss the number of women she knew getting pregnant at once as mere coincidence, even after what Ginny had said, until she'd learnt that both Lavender and Hestia Jones had been pregnant, too. That was too much to ignore—especially, she realised, her stomach clenching with nerves, as all the women who had fallen pregnant had a connection to the Order or were ex-DA (or had at least survived at Hogwarts during that horrible year that the Carrows had been there).

Of course, she tried to tell herself, it could still just be a coincidence. Many of them were married women—some even had children already. But what Padma had said about this potion—which could, apparently, be used to force women to become pregnant—made her dismiss that. The potion's use was restricted for a reason...

There was, of course, a flaw in her logic, a flaw she realised almost immediately. Not only was it hard to think of a reason for someone to want to force a bunch of women in their mid-twenties to become pregnant, she herself had no memory of someone forcing her to drink a potion, or even a drink that had been spiked. She had no gaps in her memory which might indicate an Obliviation charm gone wrong, and even if she was prepared to accept that such a thing had happened to her, she knew for a fact that it would have been impossible to happen to so many other women without their noticing. Ginny was married to the Deputy Head of the Auror Office, and until recently her diet had been strictly monitored and regimented by one of the best Quidditch teams in the country. No one would have been able to slip something in a drink of hers at home _or_ at work. Fleur and Audrey both had two young children and were always complaining that they couldn't even go to the toilet alone, for Merlin's sake! There was definitely no chance of that going on in their homes, either...

Hermione jumped as her ice cream—long since forgotten—slid off its cone and landed on her wrist, its coldness bring her back down to Earth with a bump. Padma's information had confirmed her suspicions that all these pregnancies could be due to the involvements of magic—maybe even Dark magic—but they had not provided her with an explanation for how this potion could have been given to so many women unknowingly. Nor, come to think of it, had the information provided her with any _motive_ for such a thing...

Wiping the remains of the ice cream off her arm with a grim sort of smile, Hermione got to her feet. _She _might have hit a dead end in her investigation of sorts, but luckily for her, she knew one or two people who might be able to help her unravel the mystery.

* * *

_A/N: A couple of notes on canon: Megan Jones is indeed a canon character in the Trio's year at school—she is mentioned by name when she is Sorted into Hufflepuff in PS. Canonically, she has no link to Hestia Jones, the Order member, but as there is no information contradicting that (to my knowledge...) and Hestia is about the right age to have a child of the Trio's age, I've taken the liberty of making them mother and daughter._

_Secondly, for those of you who are wondering about Hermione and Lavender's relationship: most of my stories take place within the same universe and can be read as a continuation of each other. I wrote about the two girls becoming good friends in their "eighth" year of school (not unlikely, given that Hermione saved Lavender's life in the Battle) in a oneshot called __If It Comes Back__, which you are welcome to check out if you so desire!_

_Shameless self-plugging over, I would like to thank the reviewers of the last chapter: Pink Mockingjay; finchelromionelover; ; yellow 14; Wizard of night; Jily-Love; nirdoodle; nerdyninjaunicorn; ChizomenoHime; RetroNick; The Golden Marauder and Minerva2012. You're all lovely!_


	6. Investigations

**Chapter Six: ****Investigations**

"Where are we going today, Daddy?" Bill looked down and saw his eldest daughter, Victoire, staring up at him. He had given her the task of dressing herself and her sister, and the six year old had decided to wear jeans underneath a yellow dress and a pink cardigan. Her hair was tied in four different pigtails, and to top it all off, she was wearing bright red welly boots on her feet. On another day, her outlandish outfit might have made him laugh, but today, all he could do was run a hand distractedly through his hair whilst he searched for everything his two little girls needed for their day out.

"You're going to Auntie Audrey's today; she's going to look after the two of you," he said, throwing an assortment of toys in a bag. Victoire shrieked when she saw that he'd dumped her favourite doll in the carry-on with no thought for her welfare.

"Daddy! You hurt Millie!" she pouted.

"Millie? Who—?" began Bill, but she'd already pulled the doll out of the bag and was stroking its head soothingly. "Vic, sweetie, give that here, I need to get you ready for going to your Auntie and Uncle's house," he said.

Victoire glared mulishly at him. "No!" she pouted. "You hurt her! Daddy doesn't know how to look after dollies."

Bill opened his mouth to tell her off, then closed it again. Shouting at Victoire would only result in a temper tantrum, and he just couldn't deal with that this morning. "Tell you what, Vic. You sort out what dollies you'll want today, whilst I fetch your sister, then we'll head off, yes?"

"Okay Daddy!" Victoire said brightly, forgiving him instantly.

He found Dominique in her bedroom, standing on the bed, surrounded by a pile of stuffed toys and picture books. "Dada!" she exclaimed delightedly, as he came through the door. "Look!" Screwing up her face in concentration, she eyed the shelf where most of the toys lived and, sure enough, a stuffed dragon (courtesy of Uncle Charlie) appeared on the bed next to her. "I fetch it!" she announced proudly, in case he had any doubts.

Bill suppressed a sigh. His youngest daughter had been showing signs of accidental magic for some months now, something that was usually a source of amusement—if occasional alarm—for him and his wife, but all it did that morning was give him something else to worry about cleaning up. "Come on, Domi," he said, lifting her up in his arms. "Let's get going."

"No!" Dominique said, wriggling. "Bing Dagon!" She pointed at the toy.

"You want to bring dragon?" Bill asked. She nodded enthusiastically. "Okay then." A quick flick of his wand had the stuffed toy zooming over to them, where it landed on Dominique's shoulder. She laughed delightedly, squeezing it to her. "Well, that was easier than expected," Bill muttered to himself.

"Easier than 'spected!" Dominique echoed, giggling again.

Bill carried her down into the living room where Victoire was waiting, the carry-on overflowing with toys. "Do you really need that many things for a day with Molly and Lucy?" he asked her, nodding towards the bag. "They have plenty of toys themselves, you know, and they'll be happy to share them with you."

"I do!" Victoire said. "I need _this_ one for—"

"Alright, but just don't make a mess at your Aunt and Uncle's house, okay?" he said. "Right, come here," he added, stepping into the grate. "Hold that very tightly with your one hand, and don't let go of my hand with your other, okay?" Victoire did as she was asked, and Bill rearranged Dominique, nestled into his other arm, so that his hand was free. He picked up a handful of floo powder, and called out the address of Percy and Audrey's house.

"Hello dear, let me help you with that," he heard, as soon as the world stopped spinning. Audrey took the bag of toys off Victoire, who shot off across the kitchen to see Molly, who was colouring a picture at the table. "Hi Bill, you just missed Percy," she added.

"I wouldn't want to hold him up – I know he's got an important meeting this morning," he shrugged, setting Dominique onto the floor. She toddled towards Lucy, who was playing with a pile of coloured bricks on the floor and obligingly made room for her three-months-older cousin.

"When doesn't he?" Audrey said, rolling her eyes fondly. "Anyway, how's Fleur today?"

Bill shook his head. "Same as ever, really. The mediwitch who came yesterday said that she's just having a bad pregnancy, but if she doesn't start improving soon, they might have to take her into St. Mungo's. They're worried about her hydration levels, you know? And she keeps getting dizzy and fainting...I've done so many cushioning charms over the past couple of weeks, you wouldn't believe it!" He gave a short laugh.

Audrey patted his arm sympathetically. "Well, the important thing is that you're there looking after her," she said. "And you've got the hospital there if you need it. Ooh, and tell her to try some ginger tea, it's really helped me feel just wonderful!"

Bill gave a tight smile. "I'll pass that on. Hopefully something will help her!"

"Of course!" Audrey said, nodding understandingly. "And do let me know if there's anything else I can do to help you two with!"

"Thanks Audrey, we really do appreciate it," he said sincerely. "The girls are getting pretty used to being shipped off all over the place – Vic asked me this morning who's house she was going to today. They've got into a routine about it, so that's good, right?"

"Oh, definitely!" Audrey agreed. "And they're so well behaved whilst they're here."

"That's one less thing to worry about then," Bill said. "Anyway, look, I have to go, so thanks once again. Bye girls!" he called. Victoire and Dominique called out goodbye to their father, but quickly turned back to their other activities. "I'll be round to pick them up at—"

"Just come whenever you can," Audrey smiled. "We can look after them for as long as you need."

Calling another thank you to Audrey as he went, Bill flooed to Gringotts, where he spent the whole morning worrying about Fleur. At lunchtime, he headed home as quickly as he could. "Fleur?" he called, as soon as his feet landed on the floor of Shell Cottage's living room. He waited anxiously for a response. If she called to him from the kitchen, it was generally a good day, but if she was still in bed, as she had been the previous day...well, the less said the better.

Her response came from upstairs and his heart sank, but when he entered their bedroom, he found her at least sitting up in bed, and dressed in something other than pyjamas. She still looked deathly pale, but there was a nearly empty glass of water on the bedside table. "I 'ave kept all that down!" she said, by way of greeting, pointing proudly to the glass.

"Congratulations!" he said sincerely. "How was the visit from the midwitch?"

Immediately, her almost-cheerful expression faded. "Not great," she admitted. "Zey are saying that if I 'ave not improved by the end of the week, I must go in to St. Mungo's. But I cannot! What about the girls?!"

"The girls will be fine," said Bill reassuringly. "They're already going to stay with our family during the day; they know that's what they do now, until you're better. So I'd just take them to Mum and Dad's, or Percy's, or George and Angie's, and—"

Fleur's face crumpled. "I am such a bad mother!" she said, tears pooling in her eyes. "I cannot even look after my own children! Audrey and Angelina are pregnant, but zhey manage to, but I cannot!" Bill knew that the sudden moodswing was only partially due to her pregnancy hormones, and did his best to reassure her that she wasn't a bad mother, but she was having none of it. "I just don't know what to do!" she cried. "I want to 'ave this baby, but it is not a 'appy occasion like it was with Victoire and Dominique. And it ees making me so ill and I cannot look after my ozzer babies, and—"

"Ssh, shh," Bill soothed, cradling her in his arms and stroking her hair. She felt tiny next to him—the constant sickness and exhaustion meant that she had lost weight, despite the baby inside her—and even her Veela charms could only do so much to hide how dull her skin had become; how lank her hair now was. He couldn't help agreeing with her about this not being a happy occasion: he had been overjoyed to find out she was pregnant on the previous two occasions, but this time, his joy at the unexpected news was overshadowed by a fear of what might happen to Fleur if she carried on being so ill, and worry over what impact their mother being bedridden might have on Victoire and Dominique. "It'll be okay, don't you worry," he added, but even as he said so, he wondered how much longer that would take.

* * *

"Oh Her-_mi_-oh-nee!" Ginny's voice, sing-songing her name, pulled Hermione out of her inner musings and back down to earth. For a second, she didn't recognise her surroundings, but then it came to her: she, Ron, Harry and Ginny had gone out to dinner to celebrate Ginny getting her new job as the _Daily Prophet's _Quidditch correspondent. They had gone to a Muggle restaurant: both she and Harry could cope with Muggle money and customs and Ginny was nearly as adept as her husband as coping in a non-magical environment; the food was good and they were completely free to enjoy themselves without the risk of being recognised by hoards of fans.

It was almost relaxing.

"I was just saying, it's funny that the first game I'll be covering as a reporter is the Harpies versus the Canons next week, isn't it?" Ginny said, tipping a wink at Hermione.

"Well, the Harpies only won the last four times you played the Cannons because _you_ were on the team!" Ron said, ever eager to defend his team. "With you gone—"

"The Cannons'll suddenly recover from their seventy-nine game losing streak?" Ginny asked innocently, taking a sip of her orange juice. "Probably not."

Harry laughed, and Ron sighed. "Just you wait," he said ruefully. "One day, the Canons'll come back and—"

"Hang on a minute," Hermione said, interrupting her husband as a thought struck her. "If you're reporting at the match, the press are going to work out that you don't have dragon pox. It was one thing when you weren't in the public eye, but if you're sat in the press box..."

"Yeah, we've thought of that," Ginny said. "We've decided to go public with the news."

"Kingsley always told me that it's easier to control things if you present a short statement then ignore all the other requests for interviews," Harry put in. "We're doing what we did with our engagement: keeping it private and telling only close friends and family first, then once they all know, informing the press in one statement."

"Everyone we care about already knows, and I'm at fourteen weeks now so it won't be long before I start showing. We don't want everyone and his aunt to be speculating about whether I'm pregnant or just getting fat, so we gave a short interview to...a reporter the other day," Ginny said, exchanging a sly glance with her husband that didn't go unnoticed by either Ron or Hermione.

"What reporter?" Ron asked at once.

"One L. Lovegood at _The Quibbler_," Harry said, chuckling. "She's giving all the profits from the interview to charity, so it's a win all round, really."

"Rita Skeeter'll be pissed to miss this scoop," said Ron.

"Not as pissed as she'll be when she realises that she's missed the scoop of so many of the 'heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts' having children at the same time," Ginny said. "Neville and Hannah haven't gone public yet; nor have Angelina and George or Percy and Audrey..."

"It _is _strange, so many of us having kids at once," Ron mused.

Hermione saw this as her opening, and took it. "You don't think that someone's, you know, _up to something_, do you?" she asked. She had aimed for a light tone, but Ron, Ginny and Harry's eyes all immediately flew to her face.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, frowning at her.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by their food arriving. It was a mark of how impatient they all were to hear what she had to say that even Ron did not pick up his knife and fork to dig into his steak as soon as the waitresses left. "I've just been thinking, over the past few days," Hermione said, "about how many people—you know, our friends, people in the DA and whatnot—are having babies."

Ginny frowned at her. "I thought we agreed the other day that it was just a coincidence?" she asked.

"Well just...don't you think it's a bit suspicious?" Hermione asked, warming to her theme. "Look, you're pregnant; Fleur's pregnant; Audrey and Angelina are pregnant; Susan, Pavarti and Hannah are pregnant...oh, and Terry Boot's wife, what's her name, Catherine? If you count me, Lavender and Megan, who all had miscarriages, that's eleven people we know getting pregnant at the same time!"

"So what're you suggesting?" Harry asked. "Someone's forcibly impregnating everyone we know?"

"Well—no," Hermione admitted. "It's just _odd_, is all. Don't you think?"

"I just think we're kind of at that age now, you know?" Harry asked. "We're getting married, settling down...having kids is part of that."

"It is," Hermione agreed. "But all the conceptions must have happened at about the same time, if you think about it. Just taking our immediate family – Fleur, Audrey, Angelina, Ginny and I must have all gotten pregnant within about three weeks of each other. Now, if Ginny was, say, six months pregnant when Fleur conceived, then a few months down the line, Angelina got pregnant – _that_ I think you could say was coincidence. But _all_ of us getting pregnant within the same month—even if my pregnancy didn't last for longer than a few weeks—it's very..." she drifted off, searching for the correct word.

"Very, _very _coincidental. Almost too much of a coincidence," Ginny nodded, looking slightly anxious. "And if you add the other people we know getting pregnant at around the same time as well—there's definitely Hannah, and Lavender too, if I've got my sums right?" She shot a questioning glance at Hermione, who nodded vigorously, her mouth now full of food. "Like I say – even judging by that alone, it's almost too coincidental to actually be, well, a coincidence."

"But if it _is _that – you know, someone plotting something," interjected Ron, "I think it's far more likely to be a joke than anything dodgy. It actually sounds like a really elaborate plan, something the twi—George would cook up. I mean, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't do anything like that, but it _does_ sound far more like a joke than anything serious. Who would force someone to be pregnant? And can you even do that?"

Hermione opened her mouth to explain about the Potion Padma had told her about, but closed it again on seeing Harry and Ginny nodding along with Ron, the latter looking rather relieved. Ginny had seemed rather upset when she mentioned the issue the other week, and the last thing she wanted to do was make her too anxious—who knew what that could do to the baby?! Maybe, if she dropped it for now, and tried to explain to Ron and Harry when Ginny wasn't there to be alarmed...yes, that would probably be best.

"Sometimes, I think we've spent too long looking for Dark Magic everywhere," Harry said sagely. "You start to look at stuff that is an actual coincidence, and suspect Death Eater involvement, you know? We'll end up like old Mad-Eye, if we're not careful!"

Ron and Ginny laughed at this, and Hermione managed a weak chuckle. The two siblings had already changed the subject, back to the age-old argument of the Harpies vs. the Cannons, and Hermione let them continue. Upsetting Ginny wouldn't do her or the baby any good; catching Harry and Ron separately at work was probably the best idea. But, she mused, Mad-Eye Moody was right: even now, constant vigilance seemed necessary.

* * *

"This is the Auror Office! Put that quill down at once or we'll be forced to hurt you! It's officially lunchtime!" Hermione looked up at Lavender's voice, and found the other woman standing in the doorway, waving her wand about in a jokey manner.

"I can't, I've got loads to be getting on with, and—" she began, but Lavender was having none of it.

"I've been told by Ron to entertain you—he's had to stand you up, I'm afraid," she said. Hermione frowned. "He's had to go to Azkaban to question Yaxley some more—purely routine, but he won't be back for lunch like he promise you, apparently. So I've been dispatched to get lunch with you instead."

"That's very nice of you Lavender, but—"

"But you honestly can afford to take half an hour away from your desk—besides, I've already cleared it with your boss, haven't I, Hestia?" she called the last bit very loudly out of the door, and a resounding 'Yes!' came back from outside. "Look, it's my treat. I wanted to thank you for looking after me the other night. I know I was a bit of a mess, and that can't have been pleasant for you, so...let me get you one of the really yummy sandwiches they sell here, as a reward."

"Well, there's an offer I can't refuse!" Hermione laughed, standing up.

"I'm sure we'll be able to find something we can transfigure so it's not wholly inedible," Lavender said. The two women made their way over to the canteen, chattering lightly, and found a table where they sat down with their lunch. "Right, chicken and something that may, at one point, have been a lettuce is yours, and I've got cheese and something that bears a passing resemblance to pickle," she said. "The catering staff have outdone themselves.

Hermione laughed. "So, how've you been?" she asked, taking a bite of her sandwich. "I mean, _really_ how are you, after everything?"

"Not so bad, actually," Lavender said. "It's been quite a shock, learning that I can't have children but...you learn to live with it. Over time it'll get easier, I suppose. I have good days and bad days." Hermione nodded. "And are you still okay with...you know, everything that happened with you? Did the Healers give you a clean bill of health?"

"They did," Hermione nodded. "Everything's as it should be now—but in all honesty, Ron and I probably aren't going to try for a baby for a few years yet. But they've said that I'm fully recovered internally at least, so..." Hermione drifted off, realising this probably wasn't a topic of conversation Lavender wanted to delve into too much.

"I'm glad," Lavender replied. "It just gets a bit difficult sometimes, what with every bloody woman I know being pregnant, or so it seems!"

"I know the feeling," Hermione said. "Sometimes it's like everyone I know is...it _is _everyone I know!" she said suddenly, and her amazed tone made Lavender look up, startled.

"What?" she asked, frowning.

"Every woman I know who iss associated with the DA or the Order...or...or who fought in the Battle is pregnant," Hermione breathed. "Not everyone carried their baby to term—you know Hestia's daughter Megan miscarried the other week? — but everyone I can think of who is pregnant has a connection to the DA or Order," she finished triumphantly.

"You think there's some Dark magic behind it?" Lavender asked, leaning forwards slightly.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I asked Padma about that sort of thing when I went for my check up—to cut a long story short, there is a Potion you can take that'll guarantee you get pregnant if you have sex, but within certain limits."

"What limits?" Lavender asked intently, pulling a piece of parchment out of her handbag.

"It'll guarantee fertilisation, but only if an egg comes into contact with sperm within the month you take the potion," Hermione said. "But it won't override existing infertility, and it's very tightly controlled. It's basically illegal—you have to get all sorts of permissions from the right Healers to take it, and it's pretty much only used as a last ditch attempt for people who desperately want a baby, kind of like IVF in the Muggle world, do you know...well, never mind," Hermione added, as this resulted in a blank look from Lavender. "The point is, before we start jumping to conclusions, we'd have to work out if everyone who has a connection to the DA or the Order is or has been pregnant within the past few months."

"Well, everyone in your family is—or at least, was," she added, with an apologetic look at Hermione. She wrote down the name of all of the women who'd married into the Weasley family, along with Pavarti, Hannah, Susan and Catherine, Terry Boot's wife. "I suppose I count, too, even though I miscarried, and Megan, too."

Hermione nodded. "It wouldn't work if you were single, you say? You can rule out Padma—she split up with her boyfriend last year and she hasn't been with anyone since—and Luna too, and it only works if an egg comes into contact with sperm?" Hermione nodded again. "Right, we can rule out Su Li," Lavender went on. "She's in a long term relationship, but with a woman, so for our purposes, she doesn't count."

For once, Hermione found herself glad for Lavender's gossipy tendencies. Off the top of her head, she was able to write down the names of all the women who had been in the DA, and those who were in relationships with its male members. "What we need to do," she said, pointing at the second list of names, "is find out what's going on with all of _these_ women."

"I think we do," Hermione agreed.

* * *

_Many apologies for not updating last week; I was moving, had internship related stuff to do and was visiting friends so this rather fell by the wayside. But we're back to your regularly scheduled Wednesday updates for now! As usual, thank you hugely to the following reviewers: Pink Mockingjay; Wizard of night; ChizomenoHime; yellow 14; finchelromionelover; HogwartsDreamer113; aasiuplltdwlovergojaria; ImInLoveWithThePhantom; AbsolutelySpiffing (thanks for the lovely compliment!); The Golden Marauder; nerdyninjaunicorn; jubs-vj; Minerva2012 and Guest._

_Also, please do review this chapter if you've made it this far. I'd love to know what you think, and I'm not too proud to beg ;)_


	7. Gathering Evidence

**Chapter Seven: ****Gathering Evidence**

"Auror Brown to see you, Madam Weasley," Hermione looked up.

"Thank you, Steven," she said to her secretary. "Come in, Auror Brown. I'm just finishing off these notes for Head Auror Potter.

"Of course, Madam Weasley," Lavender replied, mimicking Hermione's professional tone. "Take your time." The door closed behind Steven, and Lavender rushed over to Hermione. "Well?" she asked hurriedly, perching on the edge of the desk.

"I've got news," Hermione said, casting a _Muffliato _charm on the door just to be safe. They had agreed yesterday to keep their discoveries to themselves – they both understood that they couldn't make this an official investigation using the Auror Office until they had more proof of their suspicions. In the meantime, whilst they were still searching for news, they had agreed to keep their discoveries strictly between themselves, in case there _was_ someone behind it all, and that person got wind that they were on to them.

"Me, too," said Lavender. "You first."

"I went to see Angelina last night—just a personal visit and nothing to do with this whole thing—but just as I was arriving, Katie was leaving. She'd brought her son, Evan, to visit Angelina and George and their daughter," began Hermione. "You know that Katie married—"

"Oliver Wood, everyone knows that," Lavender nodded.

"Right, well, when she gave birth to their first child, something went wrong and, to cut a long story short, Angelina told me that due to the complications, Katie won't be able to have any more children," said Hermione.

"Which means that we can effectively cross her off our list, because she's considered infertile," Lavender said, quickly picking up on what Hermione was insinuating. "If that potion is involved in this—"

"It can't override any existing infertility issues," Hermione finished. "So Katie fits our pattern."

"And so does Dean," Lavender said. "You know he's been seeing Sally-Anne for a couple of years now? He came round last night, coincidentally, and told us that they're expecting their first child. He seems quite surprised by it all; they weren't planning on having a baby quite this early. I mean, it's a happy surprise, but..."

"But still a surprise," Hermione nodded. "It seems a few people who we know who are pregnant are saying that. Did Dean say when Sally-Anne was due?"

"Early January ish," Lavender replied. Hermione's face lit up. "Is that when everyone else is due?" she asked.

"Everyone else that I know of, yes," Hermione said. "It was when I did the conception calculations that first made me suspicious. Everyone who we know is—or was—pregnant seems to have conceived at about the same time. Probably around..." She did some quick mental maths in her head. "Probably around early April ish, I think, give or take two weeks either side. Actually – they were able to give Ginny an exact conception date at one of her appointments, she told me. April the eighth. I'd put money on everyone else who is pregnant conceiving within a month either side of that date."

"_Shit_," Lavender breathed.

"What?!" Hermione looked up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"Friday the eighth of April," Lavender said. "Ring a bell?" Hermione frowned. "It was the date of the ball!"

"Oh, _Merlin_," said Hermione.

"Yes," Lavender said significantly. "The ball thrown for all ex-DA and Order members. Merlin's arse!"

"Is there a list of attendees anywhere?" Hermione asked.

"In the Auror Office, for security purposes," Lavender replied. "I'll pick it up in a moment – but I can bet you anything it'll tie in with the list I made yesterday." Hermione nodded.

The younger members of the DA and Order had become sick of the attention they received from the press very quickly. Though Hermione, Ron and Harry bore the brunt of it, everyone else who had fought at the Battle of Hogwarts—and formed part of the resistance at Hogwarts during the year the Carrows had been in charge—had become famous in the wizarding world. About a year after the Battle, in order to combat everyone's annoyance with the press's intrusions, Hermione had come up with an idea: every year, a Ball would be held for the surviving members of the DA and the Order.

They would dress up and pose for photographs, give statements to reporters and generally get together and have a good time in front of the cameras. In return, the press (mostly) left them alone, and didn't intrude on their private lives. She, Harry and Ron proved a bit of an exception, but for all the other so-called "Hogwarts Heroes", this worked quite well. Best of all, all the money that was raised at the function went straight to charities which benefitted people who had been injured in the war, or families of people who had been killed. It had proved very successful, even if she did say so herself.

That year, the Ball had been held at the Ministry—hence the Auror Office providing security—on the eighth of April. "So if someone was to somehow try to use the potion to impregnate all of Dumbledore's Army and the Order," Hermione began.

"That would pretty much be the place to do it," Lavender finished. "All of the Order and DA and Hogwarts Heroes and whatever other rubbish they're calling us in one place at one time...it'd be easy!"

Hermione frowned. "But how? And, more importantly, _why_?"

Lavender shook her head. "We can worry about that later," she said. "What we need now is that it's affected all the women who attended the Ball."

"We should also find out if the potion has any effect on men, too," Hermione said. "If a man drinks it, but his partner doesn't, then they have sex—does it have the same effect that it would if the woman drank it?"

"Good point," Lavender said. "Right. The Auror Office owes me some time off—it was my intelligence that led them to Yaxley a few weeks ago, so I'm in their good books at the moment."

"And I can persuade Hestia that I should take a half day," Hermione said. "She owes me for the overtime the other day. Is Ron in the office?"

Lavender shook her head. "No—he and Harry have gone to question Yaxley _again_, poor loves," she replied.

"Good," Hermione said. "I don't have to lie to them."

"They don't know about your suspicions?"

"They know I think it's a weird coincidence that everyone's pregnant at once, but they don't know about the potion and they don't suspect Dark Magic's involved. I mean, I really hope they're right, and we _don't_ get any conclusive results from our investigations, but until we do, I'd like to keep it between us. We don't know what's going on, and all of Ron's family are expecting babies," Hermione said. "It's too personal. And you know what Harry's like with Ginny."

"He'd wrap her in cotton wool if he could," Lavender nodded.

"If she'd let him."

"Yes," chuckled Lavender. "Right. I'll find a copy of the Ball's guest list, you go talk to Hestia. Meet me in the Atrium in ten?"

* * *

Professor McGonagall surveyed them at length, then sighed. "Go ahead then, you know where the Hospital Wing is," she said.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said politely. "We'll let you know before we leave."

"Very good," said the Headmistress, and the two witches made their way across the Entrance Hall.

"I'm surprised she let us," Hermione muttered to Lavender, once they'd rounded a corner.

"Pfft," said Lavender. "We're her Gryffindor girls. Of course she'd let us!"

"Her _Gryffindor girls_?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, no, to be honest, it's just you," Lavender grinned. "You always were a teacher's pet!" Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but realised Lavender was joking and closed it again, settling for a glare. Lavender looked supremely unthreatened.

They had decided that their first visit should be to Alicia Spinnet. Not only was Alicia an ex-DA member, and had therefore been at the Ball, she was also Hogwarts' new school nurse, having taken over from Madam Pomfrey when she retired a couple of years ago. The two of them had apparated to Hogsmeade, where Hermione had sent a Patronus to Professor McGonagall who had let them in Hogwarts' School Gates.

They wanted to keep their visit as secret and under the radar as possible, and, after giving out the barest details of their problem, the Headmistress had allowed them access to Alicia. They trusted her to understand when things needed to be kept secret, and she hadn't pressed them for details.

It didn't take the two of them long to arrive at the Hospital Wing, where they quickly found Alicia. Fortunately, the Hospital Wing was empty of pupils, and Alicia took them inside the private consulting room. "How can I help?" she asked, a quizzical look on her face.

"Okay, so you know how as a Healer, you have to keep your patients' details a secret?" Lavender began. Alicia nodded. "We need to you keep this _even more_ of a secret."

"O-_kay_," she said slowly.

Hermione briefly outlined their suspicions, keeping the information as vague as possible. Whilst she trusted Alicia, until they had a concrete case before them, it was best that they kept as few people in the know as possible. Alicia picked up on their urgency, and answered the questions they had as well as she could.

"From what I remember from Healer training, the potion only interacts with female hormones. So men are not going to be affected by the potion at all—at least, not in terms of fertility—unless, for whatever reason, they have a large amount of female hormones in their body, which is very rare," Alicia said. "Having said that, I wouldn't advise men start swilling it down like its pumpkin juice..."

"What are the side effects?" Hermione asked.

"Difficult to say," responded Alicia. "Some women will react very badly to it—but then, some people will react badly to Essence of Dittany or Pepper-Up Potion. You can be allergic to it, same as you can be allergic to anything. However, it does contain quite a potent hormone mix, as well as various other ingredients which, if ingested regularly, can cause permanent damage. It's one of the reasons its use is so tightly controlled."

"Right, thank you for that," Lavender nodded, jotting a few things down. "And now—sorry for the personal nature of this, but you understand why we've got to ask it—the DA Ball, on the eighth of April. Did you go with anyone, or did you have sex with anyone around that date?"

"You think someone's spiked the drinks or something with the pregnancy potion?" Alicia asked. The two other women nodded, and she whistled through her teeth. "Merlin. Sorry to disappoint though—I haven't, ah, been with anyone since I split up with my boyfriend in February. That was a nice Valentine's gift..."

Hermione winced sympathetically, but got to her feet. "Thanks for telling us that, Alicia," she said. "It actually aids our investigation: if you're not with anyone—or weren't at the time—you shouldn't be pregnant, and you fit that pattern. So you've helped us. Thanks."

"Wait," Alicia said, and Lavender, who was also making to leave, paused. "There's...there is one thing." Both witches took one look at her serious expression and sat down again.

"Hermione," she said, turning towards her. "I haven't forgotten the help you gave me when I applied for this job." Hermione inclined her head. The other reason she and Lavender had gone to Alicia first was because Alicia had been attacked by Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts.

After the Battle, she had been like Lavender—not a full Werewolf, but Werewolf enough that several members of the wizarding world, who had not learned from Voldemort's reign, spoke out against her appointment as Hogwarts' new school nurse, despite the fact that she had completed her Healer apprenticeship with outstanding grades, and came highly recommended by the leading Healers at St. Mungo's. Hermione had been the one to fight her case, one of her first as a member of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and had succeeded in both allowing Alicia to keep her job, and allowing any part-werewolf to sue for discrimination if they were denied a job.

There was still the odd letter in the _Prophet_ from old fashioned Pureblood maniacs about so-called 'half-breeds', but they were very much in the minority. Hermione winning Alicia's case had ensured that, legally, they didn't have a leg to stand on. Her next step was to extend that protection for full Werewolves—but that was not today's issue.

Today's issue was getting to the bottom of this mystery, and she had been prepared to remind Alicia of the debt she owed her if she had to. But it had been Alicia who brought that up, not her, and so Hermione listened intently as the other woman explained her situation.

"My aunt and uncle were killed in the war, but my cousin—Isobel, their daughter—was very young then. My family adopted her, after they died, and we all became her guardians," began Alicia. "What I'm telling you know, I'm telling you as her guardian, and _not _as a Healer, and it's important that you remember that." Both Hermione and Lavender nodded.

"Isobel is in her final year of school, and she wants to join the Obliviation squad when she leaves school next month," she said. "I was, as I've already told you, single on the night of the Ball, so I effectively had a free plus one. I took Isobel with me, because I knew that Pavarti would be there. I wanted her to have connections in the field she wants to work in—I know it's not entirely ethical, but she's my cousin, we're the only family she has, and I want the best for her, you understand?"

"Of course," Hermione said.

"So Isobel was at the Ball?" Lavender asked.

"She was," replied Alicia. "I cleared it with Professor McGonagall, who gave us the okay as long as she was back in school before midnight. I mean, she's a seventh year; the school's okay with that sort of thing as long as it's career building, right? I got her back in time, we thought everything was okay. But a few weeks later, she came to me in floods of tears."

"She was pregnant?" guessed Lavender.

Alicia hesitated for the briefest of moments before nodding. "She couldn't understand what had gone wrong. She's has a boyfriend—John—they're both seventh years, and...well, I didn't know they'd been sleeping together, but she's of age and she swore up and down they'd been using contraception."

"But the potion would have overridden her contraceptives," Hermione said. "I _see_."

"Look, the reason I'm telling you this is because I think it will help your investigation," Alicia said. "My cousin had a horrible time of it and ended up having an abortion. What else could she do? She's an eighteen year old schoolgirl with a seventeen year old boyfriend. There is no way they could have a baby. I supported her as best I could as a cousin and guardian—I took her to St. Mungo's, let her make her own choices about what she wanted to do..."

"You did the right thing," Lavender said immediately. "It's not your fault—and it looks like it wasn't her fault either. She's certainly not the first eighteen year old to have sex, and it sounds like she was taking all the right precautions. There's no way anyone could have foreseen this situation."

"I know," sighed Alicia. "But Izzy...she's really upset about the whole thing. _Seriously_ upset. I'm worried about it affecting her NEWTs, I'm...well, put it this way. I told you this because I want to help your investigation. But please, _please_ keep her out of it. Don't mention her name to anyone, just...please keep it quiet. I trust you, Hermione, after everything you've done for me, and I'll do anything to help, but please don't tell Isobel what's going on."

"We won't," Hermione assured her. "We're keeping everything private, and your cousin's details certainly won't be shown to anyone who could identify them as belonging to her."

"Seriously," added Lavender, "if there's one thing the Auror Office is good at, it's protecting people. We won't even call her as a witness if we can possibly help it. By the looks of things, we've got plenty of other witnesses as it is..."

"Thank you," Alicia said. "If it's all the same to you, I don't think I'll tell her about your suspicions. She just needs to move on, and that's probably the best way to do that."

"Of course," nodded Hermione. "And like we said before, we don't want anyone finding out about our investigations. So we'll keep your—or Isobel's—secrets, and you can keep ours."

They rounded up their conversation and left, seeing Professor McGonagall on their way out. "I trust your interview was productive?" she asked, seeing them to the gate.

"It was certainly informative," Hermione said grimly.

"Do let the school know if there is anything we can do to assist with whatever it is you're up to now," said the Headmistress. "And pass on my congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Potter when you see them," she added. "I was very pleased to read of their news in _The Quibbler_!"

"Professor McGonagall reads _The Quibbler_?!" hissed Lavender, once they'd left the school grounds.

Hermione shook her head. "This is the thing, though, isn't it?" she asked. "Pregnancy is supposed to be a happy time. Harry and Ginny—and all the other couples—should just be worrying about baby names, or...or what colour to paint the nursery! They don't need to be stressing over potential potions forcing them into having children, or who might be behind that!"

"You definitely think it's something sinister then?" asked Lavender.

Hermione nodded. "After what Alicia told us about her cousin? Definitely. We still need to double check with the records of who was and wasn't at the Ball, but from what she told us about Isobel...I can't even imagine having to go through that at her age. And it sounds like Isobel didn't either—if she was using protection, and being sensible...well, it's not her fault that someone gave her that potion."

"There's definitely something odd about it all," Lavender said. "I mean, it really seems like a prank, even a Wheezes' product! You know, drink this, and you'll turn bright green for a day, oh, what a big joke! But being pregnant? That's not a joke, or a prank! But it's not Dark Magic either—it's not like anyone's being poisoned or anything. They're just being made to have a child—and if you don't count people like poor Isobel, then that's basically a happy occasion."

"I don't understand either," Hermione said. "But the important thing is to get those records cross-checked. Who else was at the Ball? And are they pregnant?"

"Okay, of the boys, we need to talk to: Lee Jordan, Dennis Creevey, Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner," Lavender said, pulling her list out of her pocket. "See if they brought girlfriends, and what sort of state their uterus is in now. For the girls, it's Morag MacDougal, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brockelhurst and Minnie herself."

Hermione looked at her. "Let's get going."

* * *

_Britain is currently having something of a heatwave. If you can't think of anything else to say in a review, leave me a message telling me how to keep cool. I cannot cope with this "summer" thing at all *sadface* (Nb: that is probably the strangest way I've plugged for reviews ever...)_

_Much love to the reviewers of last chapter: finchelromionelover; I'm In Love WithThe Phantom; ChizomenoHime (thanks for the champagne!); Anubis08; wizard of night; Zalini; The Golden Marauder; nerdyninjaunicorn; LeviosaLove; yellow 14; Spinning Round on a Carousel; NoTagBacks (loved the alternate title suggestion!); Magdylena Black; Pink mockingjay; whenarewe (pleased to make you flail a la Matt Smith!) and HogwartsDreamer113 :)_


	8. Positives and Negatives

**Chapter Eight: ****Positives and Negatives**

"Hermione? Are you in?"

"Kitchen!" Hermione called back. She had heard the Floo spring to life in the next room, and recognised her sister-in-law's voice calling her. Ginny waved hello as she walked into the kitchen, but she looked rather green and clung onto the doorframe. "Ginny! What's wrong?" Hermione said, pulling out a chair and helping Ginny into it.

Ginny shook her head and pointed to the taps, a hand pressed over her mouth. Hermione quickly got her a glass of water and, to be on the safe side, conjured a bucket. The water helped Ginny, however, and she ended up not needing the bucket.

"Sorry," she grimaced, once she'd turned back to her more normal colour. "Travelling by Floo makes me feel horribly sick these days."

Hermione winced sympathetically. "I can imagine – it makes me feel dizzy at the best of times," she said. "Is there anything else I can get you?" She studied Ginny carefully. Now that she was looking less green, Hermione could see that she actually looked very well – as much as it was a cliché to say that pregnant women 'glowed', it was true for Ginny. She looked healthier than ever. She was also wearing a light blue sundress; the weather having suddenly taken a turn for the very warm even though it was only mid-June. The dress wasn't a maternity robe, but Hermione could see the slight curve of her stomach even at this early stage.

"I'm alright, thanks," Ginny said, smiling at her. "Are you making dinner?" she added, nodding towards the sideboard where a knife was magically chopping up some vegetables.

"Yes, I'm doing a risotto," Hermione replied.

"Oh good," said Ginny. "I love risotto." Hermione shot her a quizzical look. "Harry and Ron are going to be late back. Really late. They won't clock off until midnight at the earliest, Harry told me."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, her heart starting to beat faster. "What's happened?"

"Well, to cut a long story short, you know the Auror Office caught one of the ex-Death Eaters a few weeks ago?" Hermione nodded.

"Yaxley, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Ginny. "They've been questioning and questioning him, but he's refused to give them any information about where anyone else that they're still searching for is. They're really pushing him, because of that technicality in the law books that says you can't continue to question suspects on other issues during their trial, and his is coming up really soon."

"So are they questioning him all night, then?" Hermione asked.

"Not exactly," said Ginny. "He apparently gave up some information yesterday – they thought they were finally onto something, but it was a trap. Some Aurors went this afternoon – not Harry and Ron, they're fine – with a Hit Wizard Squad, and they did find evidence of some of the ex-Death Eaters they're still looking for, but...somehow, they don't know how, Yaxley had managed to get a message to them. It ended up being an ambush, they all had to retreat, and a bunch of people were injured."

"Oh Merlin," breathed Hermione. "Who? And will they be okay?"

Ginny rattled off a list of names Hermione had come to know fairly well through Ron, but assured her they were being treated at St. Mungo's and would be back to work in no time. "The problem is that they're understaffed now, what with six of their best being injured, _and_ they need all hands on deck to work out how Yaxley was able to get the message out when he hasn't had any visitors. So Harry and Ron won't be home until late tonight. I told Harry I'd come round to your place, so we weren't alone."

"Are they going out into the field tonight?" Hermione asked.

"No," Ginny shook her head. "They're all holed up in the Office apparently – they've even called Kingsley in to help them, and they've got everyone from the Minister of Magic to the lowliest trainee trying to work out what's gone on," Ginny said. "But they can't risk any more injuries until they know what they're dealing with, so no one's allowed to go out on any more missions that aren't related to this one until they've solved this problem." She sighed. "But I guess at least we don't need to worry about them getting hurt, for once."

"This is true," Hermione said, trying to look on the bright side. "Though they'll both be thoroughly preoccupied until they've solved the mystery – especially Harry."

"I know," Ginny said ruefully.

"Never mind," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "I'll make dinner for us, and you can stay here as long as you'd like!"

She and Ginny chatted away all evening whilst their risotto cooked, they ate the meal, and then cleared up. It was only after everything had been tidied away and they both retired to the sitting room that a thought struck Hermione.

"I know this is going to seem like quite an odd question," she began. "But Minerva's much older than your mother, isn't she?"

"She is," agreed Ginny. "Why?"

"I...this is very personal, I know, but...do you know if your mother has gone through the menopause yet?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked at her as though she'd lost her mind, but nodded. "She has, yes, a few years ago."

"So if your mother has, and she's a good bit younger than Professor McGonagall, it's pretty much guaranteed that she has, too, wouldn't you say?" asked Hermione.

"I...yes...but...Hermione, what in the name of Merlin's underpants and matching tea set are you going on about?!" Ginny asked.

After a moment's hesitation, Hermione explained what she and Lavender had discovered to Ginny. Both she and Lavender had agreed to keep their findings to themselves, but she had already brought up her suspicions to Ginny earlier, and she knew that she could be trusted to keep them secret.

"So what you're saying," Ginny said slowly, once she'd finished, "is that you think that someone somehow got this potion thing into our drinks or food or whatever at the Ball we went to a few weeks ago?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I know it sounds odd, but so are all these pregnancies. After what Alicia told us about her cousin...I mean, that basically confirmed it. No eighteen year old schoolgirl would want to have a baby, really, would they?"

"I should hope not," said Ginny, rubbing her own small bump tenderly. "So you just need to find out what's going on with all the other women who were at the Ball, and find out if they've been pregnant?"

Hermione nodded. "There aren't too many more people to question," she said. "Professor McGonagall came, if you recall, because she was accepting the charity money this year on behalf of the Hardship fund at Hogwarts. I'm pretty sure she's not seeing anyone, but I didn't really want to ask her about that, you know?"

Ginny gave a dark chuckle. "No, I can understand how _that _might be a bit awkward. So if you've gone through the menopause, or you're single and there's no chance of conception, you won't get pregnant?"

"No, you actually have to have sex for it to work," Hermione said. "And if you're infertile, it won't work either. And even if it _does_ work, there's still a chance you might miscarry anyway, same as if you've gotten pregnant naturally. The Healers at St. Mungo's told me that because my miscarriage occurred before six weeks into my pregnancy, it's called a very early spontaneous abortion. They're not that uncommon – and some women don't even realise that's what they've had – they think it's just a bad period, or whatever. Even if I and everyone else at the Ball was somehow given this potion, which Lavender and I think is quite likely, it won't have caused my miscarriage – or Lavender's."

"So you're saying the potion won't have any effect on my baby," asked Ginny, nervously rubbing her stomach.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not a Healer, but from what I know of the potion, it doesn't have any effects beyond conception. After all, they wouldn't give it to women at the hospital if it could harm a foetus, would they? And besides – your Healers have told you and Harry that everything's okay, haven't they?"

"They have," Ginny nodded, looking slightly reassured by this. "Could the potion be why poor Fleur's so ill? She was fine the first two times she was pregnant, but this pregnancy's been awful for her. She really is terrible—I had Victoire and Dom today whilst Bill was at work, and I took them back to Shell Cottage earlier. Fleur honestly looks like she could drop dead at any moment—it made me feel guilty for having such an easy ride!"

"I don't know," replied Hermione thoughtfully. "She _has_ been terribly sick – but again, that's just one of those things that can sometimes happen when you're pregnant. I wouldn't want to blame everything on this potion, particularly as we don't even know if it was used yet."

"But with everything you've told me, it's looking pretty likely," Ginny said. "And, you know, I'm happy to have this baby – Harry and I have always talked about having children. But it _was_ terribly sudden – we weren't planning on it just yet. We were using contraceptives, for Merlin's sake, the same ones we've been using for years now. We've never had a problem before!"

"That was one of the reasons I was so shocked when my miscarriage happened," admitted Hermione. "Ron and I were actively trying to _not_ get pregnant. And Neville and Hannah – they were really surprised to find out they were going to have a baby. I mean, I don't know their private medical details obviously, but I'd put Galleons on the fact that they were using a contraceptive that they didn't expect to fail, and that's why they were so shocked by the news..."

"What will you do?" asked Ginny suddenly. "If you do find out that everyone who was at the Ball is pregnant? Or was, or whatever?"

"Once we've got everyone checked off, and if they fit our pattern, Lavender will get the Auror Office properly involved," Hermione said. "We don't know how you'd get everyone to take the potion, but it's something that would need to be investigated. As would, I suppose, who did it and what their motivation was."

"It is a really strange thing to want to do," agreed Ginny. "Give everyone a potion to make them pregnant? It's too much of a nice thing to be Dark Magic, but too much of a weird thing to be a prank!"

"That's what Lavender said," Hermione replied. "We have to investigate what's happening with the final people on our list, but if they fit the pattern...well, it looks like Harry and Ron might be even busier, soon."

* * *

Ron didn't make it home until just gone midnight, and he barely had the energy to do anything other than crawl into bed and fall asleep. He was already dressed and heading off to work at half past six the next morning. Not long after, Hermione followed him to the Ministry, but headed off to her own office.

She found that she couldn't concentrate on her work, however, as she was so preoccupied with thinking about the investigation. Midmorning, after reading the same sentence three times and still not taking it in, she pushed her books away with a sigh. "Steven," she said, calling to her secretary. He came rushing into the room.

"Yes, Madam Weasley?"

"I have some unexpected business to attend to – there are various people I need to see," she said. "Please take any messages that come for me, but also be aware that I won't be available to meet with anyone this morning unless it's a matter of life and death. I'll be back in the office this afternoon."

"Of course, Madam Weasley," Steven said.

Hermione gathered up her handbag and left the office. She wouldn't, she realised, get any work done until she'd spoken to the people that they needed to talk to. Lee Jordan had lunchtime a show on the WWN these days; if she hurried, she could get to their broadcasting house and question him about whether he'd had a date for the Ball before his show began. Lisa Turpin worked in the Floo Network Authority Office, in the Department of Magical Transportation. She was sure she could easily make up some excuse to see her and question her about the Ball, too.

Dennis Creevy was a Trainee Auror, so she assumed that Lavender would get a chance to talk to him at some point during the day. Then, that would only leave the four old Ravenclaws: Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Morag MacDougal and Mandy Brocklehurst. Everyone else on their list had been accounted for: the other attendees of the Ball were either pregnant if they fitted that criteria, or not pregnant if they didn't.

She was able to Floo to the offices of the WWN and catch Lee just as he was coming into work. He seemed surprised by her question – and her quick departure once he'd informed her that he hadn't brought a date to the Ball – but Hermione had no time to think about that. She Floo'd back to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, and walked quickly over to one of the lifts.

"Hold the door!" she heard someone call, and automatically waited for the person to dash into the lifts. "Thanks. Oh, hello Hermione!"

"Anthony!" Hermione said. "Hello! How're you?"

"I'm not too bad thanks, yourself?" replied Anthony Goldstein, returning her polite smile. He was wearing the distinctive midnight blue robes of those who worked in the Department of Mysteries.

"I'm well, yes," Hermione nodded. Seeing him had jogged something in her memory – he was, she suddenly recalled, dating Morag MacDougal, who also worked as an Unspeakable. Now, she'd just need to find some subtle way of asking if Morag was pregnant and she could kill two birds with one stone...

"How's Ron?" Anthony continued pleasantly.

Hermione bit back a triumphant smile. He was almost making it too easy... "He's really good as well. How's Morag?"

"She's very well!" Anthony replied.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Hermione. "I haven't seen you both in ages – were you both at the Ball a few months ago? I think I remember..." she drifted off.

"I was, but Morrie wasn't – you must be thinking of someone else," said Anthony.

"Oh?" Hermione raised one eyebrow and tried to look casual.

"No, she was really ill on the day of the Ball, poor thing. Bad cold – you know there was a lot of it about back then? I wasn't going to go either, but poor old Mike – you know, Michael Corner? – anyway, he got dumped a few days before, so we both went as single men, had a bit of a guys' night! Actually, we had a few too many drinks – I don't really have that much of a recollection of the night myself, so I do hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing to you," he said with a laugh.

"Oh no, not at all," Hermione said, with a small laugh. She felt like punching the air. This was three more people who fitted their pattern – and she'd discovered it quite accidentally. "Anyway, it was nice to see you, but this is my stop!" she said, exiting the lift as it announced the Department of Magical Law Enforcement again.

"Nice to see you again, too," Anthony replied, as the doors closed behind her.

Hermione hurried through the door marked Auror Headquarters. The room was even busier than normal, but Ron spotted her, deep in conversation with one of his superiors. He sent her a questioning look, but Hermione shook her head and pointed at Lavender. Ron shrugged, but turned back to his conversation.

"Hi, Lavender," Hermione said brightly. "Are you ready to get lunch?" She leaned in closely and lowered her voice before adding, "I've found more proof. We need to talk."

"Me, too," Lavender hissed back. "Of course, but I can only take a few minutes," she said, in her normal voice, and the two women exited office quickly. Once they'd left the room, Lavender pulled her left, instead of right, and into a smaller room, where she closed the door.

"One of our interrogation rooms," Lavender said. "We won't be disturbed here, and we have total privacy. What've you got?"

"I spoke to Lee Jordan earlier," Hermione said quickly. "He was single for the night of the Ball, so he fits our pattern. We don't need to worry about questioning a female date of his."

"Good," said Lavender, putting a tick next to Lee on her list of names.

"I also bumped into Anthony Goldstein just now," she continued. "He's dating Morag MacDougal, but she was ill on the night of the Ball and didn't go. Anthony went with Michael, who was also single. They all fit our pattern – they either didn't take the potion or weren't affected by it, being men – and none of them are having babies at the end of January."

"How do we _know_ they're not pregnant?" Lavender said.

"Anthony and I had a quick catch up about our partners, but he didn't mention anything like that, and I think he would have, if Morag was pregnant," said Hermione. "But we since we know that she didn't come, if she _is _pregnant, it has nothing to do with this potion. It's the same for any women Michael or Lee happen to be seeing now."

"Good point," Lavender said. "I spoke to Dennis as well, and he's also in the single boat. So we can tick him off the list too – he'll fit our pattern. And last night, I caught up with Mandy."

"Does she fit our pattern?" asked Hermione eagerly.

"Long story short, she does," said Lavender. "I got to know her quite well after the battle – we were both hit by curses that left us in St. Mungo's for a few months. Well, I was attacked but she was hit by a curse that's left her infertile, among other things. So, she's married now and brought her husband as a date, but—"

"But the potion wouldn't override any existing infertility issues," finished Hermione.

Lavender nodded. "I really think that we need to—"

They were interrupted by a memo materialising in the room. It dropped in Hermione's lap, and she opened it, recognising her secretary's handwriting. _Madam Weasley, I know you said not to disturb you, but Mrs. Potter insisted I give you this letter right away. I asked if it was a matter of life and death and she said it was, so I've taken the liberty of sending it along._

"Oh Steven, you do take things so literally," Hermione muttered, quickly scanning the letter. She let out a gasp.

"What is it?" asked Lavender urgently.

"Listen to this! I told Ginny last night about our suspicions, and she agrees with what we've come up with so far. She's started working at the _Daily Prophet_ this week, and she's just sent me this," Hermione said, throwing the letter over to Lavender. "Read the second paragraph."

"'When I was in the ladies', I bumped into Louise Carmichael, who's the chief entertainment correspondent at the paper. She was the _Prophet's _representative at the Ball, and wrote the report on it. If you remember, she was the reporter who asked you about your Werewolf Rights legislation. Anyway, the long and short of it is, she was at the Ball and stayed for the whole night. If your theory about the potion is correct, she must have had something to eat or drink whilst she was there, because she's pregnant. We had a quick conversation when I saw her bump – turns out, she's due about the same time as me. So she fits your theory.' _Thank you Ginny_!" Lavender exclaimed.

"The only person we haven't ticked off our list is Lisa Turpin," Hermione said.

"Let's go now," Lavender said, getting to her feet.

"Do you have the time?" asked Hermione. "I know you're all really busy at the moment, what with the Yaxley case..."

"Technically no, but this is important," Lavender said. "If I get a reprimand, then so be it. We should hurry, though."

The two of them walked quickly through the corridors of the Ministry. The Floo Network Authority was not far from the Auror Office, and if they were quick, no one in the Auror Office would notice Lavender's absence. "It shouldn't take long," Lavender said. "If Lisa was at the Ball with a male partner, she will be pregnant. If she wasn't at the Ball, or she's single, she won't be – or if she is, it'll be unconnected."

"Excuse me," Hermione asked a bored looking admin assistant. "Is Lisa Turpin around here anywhere?"

"Third door on the left," the witch replied, not looking up from her magazine.

Hermione knocked on the door, her heart pounding. "Just a minute!"

A moment later, a tall woman opened the door, looking surprised to see the two of them waiting outside it. Hermione hung back. She had not known Lisa at all during their school years, and Lavender had only really got to know her during their horrible seventh year. Though all the seventh years at Hogwarts then had something of a bond, Lisa wasn't one of Lavender's close friends these days, and she was one of the few people for whom Lavender didn't know the latest gossip on their love life.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Lisa asked, in a tone of mild surprise.

"Yes, there is," Lavender said confidently. "May we come in?"

Lisa stepped aside and Hermione followed Lavender into the small office. The one wall was covered in an intricate diagram which Hermione recognised as the fireplaces in the Atrium. Lisa, she realised, must have responsibility for keeping the Ministry's own Floo network running smoothly.

"This is going to seem like a very odd question, but – you came to the Charity Ball for ex-members of the DA on the eighth of April with Kevin Entwhistle, didn't you?" Lavender asked. She must, Hermione realised, have looked at guest list more closely on their way over there.

"I did," Lisa said slowly.

"He's your boyfriend?" Lavender pressed.

Lisa gave one short nod. "Excellent," said Lavender. "And—I'm very sorry for the personal nature of this question—are you pregnant? Or have you been pregnant recently?"

Hermione, who was watching her closely, saw Lisa's face suddenly darken. She winced. She glanced at her blouse, which was pressed flat against Lisa's stomach. She clearly _wasn't _going to have a baby, so if she did fit their pattern, she, too, must have miscarried. Though Hermione had now recovered emotionally from her own miscarriage, she didn't like to talk about it, and still less with strangers. She felt guilty for putting Lisa through this, but she realised that they had no other choice.

"No. No, I'm not, nor have I been pregnant," Lisa said tightly.

An expression of shock passed quickly over Lavender's face, though she did a good job of hiding it. "Y-you're not?" she asked.

"No, I'm not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm very busy," said Lisa. She pointedly held the door open. Lavender and Hermione hurried out of the office, and into the corridor, where they exchange defeated looks.

"That's that, then," Lavender shrugged. "She doesn't fit our pattern. She'll have taken the potion, and we _know_ she had a boyfriend, but she's not been pregnant."

"No, it can't be," Hermione said, determinedly. "Even if she's an anomaly, there's still loads of evidence from everyone else we've spoken to."

"I suppose," said Lavender.

"And besides – if she and Kevin, was it? If the two of them didn't have sex on the night of the Ball, the potion wouldn't have any impact on her!"

"Don't you remember what Alicia said yesterday? The potion stays active for the length of one menstrual cycle," Lavender said. "So even if she didn't have sex with him on the night of the Ball, any potential fertilisation could happen up to a month after the date the potion was taken. If you're in a relationship with someone, you wouldn't go that long without getting it on!"

"You might if you were in a long distance relationship!" Hermione argued.

"You might, but we can't exactly go in there and ask her about her sex life, not after that. 'Hey, Lisa, tell us when you last had a shag, would you?!' No. We couldn't!" said Lavender.

"Well we've got to find some way of finding out," Hermione said. "But for now, everyone else fits our pattern, and—"

She broke off.

Lisa Turpin had just rushed past them. She hadn't appeared to see the two of them still there, as she had a handkerchief pressed to her face, and they heard her give one or two small sobs. She pushed open a door marked 'WOMEN', which closed with a bang behind her.

Lavender and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Come on," said Lavender, and the two of them rushed over to the door through which she had disappeared.

* * *

_Just so you know, this fic has 15 chapters (well, 14 and an epilogue...) so we're officially over halfway through! Yay! This may be exciting to just me, but oh well :D Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, and special thanks to those who left me tips to cope in the heat! Sadly the warm glow they left me with resulted in me becoming even hotter, but never mind, you can't have everything._

_Merci beaucoup to the following people: Wizard of night; Guest; ChizomenoHime; yellow 14 (plenty of tea—you're preaching to the choir here!); finchelromionelover; AbsolutelySpiffing (thanks for the lovely compliment!); The Golden Marauder; HogwartsDreamer113; Pink Mockingjay and Im In Love With The Phantom!_


	9. A Dangerous Discovery

**Chapter 9: ****A Dangerous Discovery**

Hermione hung back slightly, letting Lavender be the one to knock on the cubicle door—the other woman had always been much better at dealing with people than she was. "Lisa?" Lavender was saying soothingly. "Are you okay?"

The muffled sobbing stopped, and Lisa's voice sounded suspiciously through the closed door. "Who's that?" The door unlocked, and she stepped out, red-eyed. On seeing who was in the Ladies' with her, her expression immediately darkened. "Leave me alone!" she snapped.

"Lisa, please, we need to talk to you!" Lavender said. "If you just calm down, we can talk about this like—"

"You come in asking me very private, personal questions and then you have the nerve to tell me to calm down?!" Lisa nearly shrieked. "How very dare you! I'm not—"

"Lisa, please!" Lavender said, clearly agitated herself now. "We just need you to answer a few questions for us, so—"

"So you can spread it around the entire Ministry that Lisa Turpin got dumped by her boyfriend?" Lisa cried wildly. "I think not! You're not going to use _my_ personal life as gossip fodder, missy, and—"

"It's not like that!" snapped Lavender. "If you'd just listen—"

Lisa opened her mouth to say something back, but before she could, Hermione waved her wand and cast a quick silencing charm on both women. "Lisa," she said gently, addressing the outraged woman, "I am so, so sorry to have to do this, but we're worried you might be in danger." She lifted the charm as soon as she'd finished speaking, and Lisa's expression immediately turned to one of fear.

"Danger?" she asked. "But why?"

Hermione shook her head almost imperceptibly at Lavender, who had opened her mouth to respond. "Do you remember the Ball in April for ex-DA members? Well, we have evidence that someone tampered with the food there, and that everyone who attended the Ball drank a rather nasty potion," she said.

"A poison?" guessed Lisa. "But I wasn't sick or anything..."

"Not a poison," Hermione said, shaking her head. "A potion that basically guarantees that any woman who drinks it will become pregnant. It's illegal, but we think that someone managed to slip it too all the people who attended, because all the women who brought dates to the Ball found themselves pregnant afterwards. Not all of them _remained_ pregnant—I myself had a miscarriage—but every one of them fits that pattern, except you. If there was the slightest chance you might have been pregnant, can you please, please let us know, because if you fit our pattern and we find out who's been doing this, we can find them and punish them."

"And I'm in danger, you say?" asked Lisa.

Hermione hesitated. "Well, not imminently," she admitted. "There's not someone waiting outside the bathroom door to do you in, but all of us in the DA are in danger if we can't get to the bottom of this—not just you, but all your friends, too."

Lisa hesitated slightly, but after a moment opened her mouth. "I was dating Kevin Entwhistle, yes," she said. "We...things weren't great between us, but we didn't want to let everyone know that so we went to the Ball together. I hoped we could work it out later, but...well, this isn't a therapy session, you don't need to know the details," she said defensively.

"Of course not," Hermione said soothingly. "You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to."

"Well, anyway, I found out he was cheating on me about a week later, so obviously we split," Lisa said quickly. "And then a few days later, I found out I was pregnant—I know it sounds like a soap opera, but it's true."

Hermione nodded, seeing Lavender, keeping quiet in a corner over by the sink, note something down on a piece of parchment. "Well, obviously, after everything that had happened I didn't want to keep it," she said. "I spoke briefly to Kevin about it, but he...I mean, he's with someone else. It clearly wasn't going to happen and he wasn't interested so I...I had an abortion. But it's not something I really want to talk about at all, to _anyone_." She glared meaningfully at Lavender, who took the hint.

"Everything you have said will be kept completely confidential," she said, her voice pure professionalism. "No identifying details about the woman who have given evidence will be made public in the investigation, and certainly not without your consent."

Lisa visibly softened. "When you asked me about it...it's still really raw. So that's why I lied and...you know...ran off. It's not something I want to talk about, at all. But, if my evidence will help keep people safe..." she drifted off and shrugged.

"Of course," said Hermione. "And we really do thank you for telling us this. It means that we can get an investigation going immediately—though as Lavender said, we'll keep your name out of it."

"I'm happy to help," Lisa shrugged. "If you don't mind, I should probably get back to work."

"Certainly!" replied Hermione. "Oh—one other thing. This is going to become an official Auror Office investigation within the next few minutes, so of course all the details need to be kept private. So if you could—"

"Don't worry," Lisa said drily. "I won't be saying anything to anyone about this."

* * *

"What're we going to do now?" Hermione asked, once they'd exited the Ladies' toilet. They were still in the Department of Magical Transportation corridor, and every so often witches and wizards going about their job would pass them. None of them seemed to be paying either her or Lavender any attention, but Hermione felt jumpy. With Lisa's conformation, every single person who'd attended the Ball fitted the pattern. Those who should be pregnant either were, or had at one point been. Fourteen women had conceived within a month of each other; it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Clearly, something was going on.

The problem was, whilst they now had conformation of what they had previously suspected, they were completely in the dark with regard to who had put the potion that forced pregnancy in the food or drink at the Ball, and how—and more importantly—why they had done so. There were no suspects or motives, and really, Hermione thought, they didn't actually know if there was any way to prove that all the women at the Ball—and the men, too, she supposed—had taken the potion. It had been over two months ago, after all; no potion would stay in the system that long.

Or would it? This was clearly an exceptional potion—it's affects went well beyond what one would normally expect...

"We need to find out more about this potion," she said.

At exactly the same time, Lavender said, "We need to split up."

Hermione nodded. "You're right," she said. "We don't know who's behind this, and at the moment, only you and I have proof. Ginny and Alicia Spinnet know something's up, but they don't have the details we do. We are the evidence, at the moment."

"I'll go back to Hogwarts and speak to Alicia," Lavender announced. "We need to know as much as possible about this potion, but I think we should keep our knowledge between as few people as possible for now. Alicia already knows what we're doing, though, so I'll fill her in on what we've discovered. I'll get her to tell me if there's any danger to women who've taken the potion; if there's any way to find out if someone's taken it this far down the line, that sort of thing."

"Go to St. Mungo's," Hermione said. "Take Alicia if you can, but it was Padma Patil who first told me about the potion. Ask her what she knows—she's a midwife, so she's more likely to have specialised knowledge related to pregnancy than Alicia is. And Padma was in the DA from the very start so she knows the importance of secrecy. She's our best bet, I think."

Lavender nodded. "St. Mungo's it is, then. I'll also try to find out how you make the potion. I'd imagine there's a few unusual ingredients—it's not exactly the sort of potion that's going to be on the OWL, is it? Unusual or specialist ingredients mean we can track where they came from more easily than if it's just Lacewing flies or bat spleens or whatever. We might have to look at black market trade, which could be difficult, but—"

"But I'm going to tell Ron and Harry what we know," Hermione cut across her. "You know Harry's influence in the Auror Department. If it's necessary, he can throw the weight of the entire department behind this investigation. That's what, twenty, thirty people? It might be difficult to track the sale of ingredients, find out who bought them and if they might have a motivation for trying to get everyone pregnant, but the more people we have—"

"The quicker it will be," Lavender finished. "Right. I'll head back to the office and tell them I've got a lead I want to investigate. They're used to me saying things like that—it's how I usually go about gathering intelligence for them, so it won't raise any suspicions. Hopefully Robards will just assume it has something to do with the Yaxley case." Lavender was not a traditional combative Auror, like Ron and Harry were. She spent much of her time working undercover as a spy, passing intelligence back to the Auror Office. It was, she always joked, just like gossiping—only instead of discovering who was dating whom, she spent her days finding out who was plotting to kill whom.

"While you're there, can you tell Ron and Harry to meet me at our flat? I want to talk to them, but not where anyone can overhear us. I know we'll be safe at my place," said Hermione. "Tell them to get there as soon as they can."

"Of course," said Lavender. "Right, I'll be off then."

"Me, too," Hermione said. "Wait! Until we've got the whole Auror Office involved, I think it's probably best to keep this between ourselves. If you need to communicate, do it via the Galleons, and just between mine and yours." Lavender nodded seriously.

"It's probably best," she agreed. "Good luck!"

"You too," Hermione said seriously.

* * *

Hermione arrived home almost instantly, and it only took Harry and Ron fifteen minutes to get back after she returned. As she paced the floor of their small apartment, however, it felt like forever. She almost jumped on them when they finally tumbled through the fireplace. "There you are!" she said, throwing her arms around Ron.

"What is it?" he asked hurriedly, giving her the briefest of hugs before pushing her away slightly to get a full view of her. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm absolutely fine, I swear," promised his wife.

"Hermione?" asked Harry, who had followed Ron through the Floo. "What's happening? Lavender said we needed to get to you immediately, but she wouldn't tell us why!"

"Sit," Hermione said, pointing to the sofa. "I'm going to tell you what's going on, but I need you to trust me, okay?"

"Of course," said Harry.

"Why wouldn't we?" Ron asked, clearly at a loss.

"What I'm about to tell you sounds far-fetched, I know," Hermione said. "But I need you to believe me, and not interrupt."

Harry and Ron both took a seat on the sofa, and Hermione stood in front of them. "There's a potion that will make you pregnant, on certain conditions," she began. She briefly outlined the criteria in which the potion worked, something she'd become very familiar with over the past few days.

Harry and Ron were both looking at her with varying degrees of confusion as she did so, but neither of them attempted to cut in. "The potion's use is very tightly controlled," she continued. "You can pretty much only be given it by Healers at St. Mungo's, and even then, it's reserved solely for witches who are desperate for a baby, with pretty much no other options. Now, Harry – Ginny told me that your baby was quite a shock. She says you're happy, but that it was unexpected, you hadn't been planning to have a child just yet?"

Harry nodded. "It was the same for Ron and I," she said. "I know I miscarried, but I was very surprised to find out I'd even been pregnant at all. I've been using the same contraception for years and it's never failed me before."

"I see where you're going with this," began Ron. "But—"

His wife held up a hand. "Hear me out," she said. "There weren't that many people at the Ball at the Ministry back in April, the one raising money for victims of the war, if you recall. It's a select event so not that many people are invited. Having said that, _fifteen women _who attended the Ball are now pregnant—or at least, like me, have been pregnant. That includes an eighteen year old schoolgirl, and the reporter from the _Daily Prophet_ sent to cover the event. Every woman there, with the exception of the reporter, had some connection to the Order or the DA—which is why they were at the Ball, of course. Not only that, all of these women fell pregnant within a month of the Ball."

"It's not that I don't see the point you're making," said Harry. "But it _could _all just be a coincidence."

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. "The women who attended the Ball who aren't now pregnant—or who haven't had an abortion or a miscarriage—were either single, so had no chance of having a pregnancy take place, or had pre-existing infertility issues. There are _no_ exceptions."

"None?" Ron asked. "Every single woman at the Ball fits your pattern of being pregnant if they should be or not if they shouldn't?"

"Every single woman," Hermione confirmed. "Lavender and I have been looking into it. Ginny knows a bit; I told her last night, but we didn't have proof then. But she owled me at lunchtime—the woman who covered the event, the _Prophet _reporter I mentioned, Louise Carmichael? Ginny recognised her in the Ladies' loo and also spotted that she was pregnant as well, and also due at pretty much the same time as Ginny is. They got talking, and it came out that Louise had seen Ginny at the Ball, which she was covering as an entertainment reporter. Where do you draw the line, and say it's not a coincidence?"

Ron looked convinced, but Harry was biting his lip. "I believe you, Hermione, I truly do," he said earnestly. "I wasn't convinced at first, but I think there's just too much evidence for it to be a series of random coincidences. But who could possibly be behind it all, and what in the name of Merlin would their motivation be?"

"I was rather hoping the Auror Office might be up to investigating that," said Hermione. "Lavender's gone to investigate this potion further, see what it's made up of. She though that if we track the more complex ingredients—see who bought them and whatnot—we could investigate those people as a start."

"I believe you, Hermione, of course I do," said Ron. "But I think the Auror Office is going to spend more time concentrating on the Yaxley case right now. Like I say, I see where you're coming from and why it's important. But Robards and the rest of the top brass are more likely to want to concentrate on a big ambush and escaped Death Eaters than something that might not even have anything to do with Dark Magic!"

"If we were able to suggest who might be behind it and why, then they might take it seriously," Harry said. "Do you definitely not have any suspicions?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've been thinking and thinking, but I can't come up with anyone who would want to force feed us all a potion to make us pregnant. I mean, let's face it, given that the Ball was for ex-DA and ex-Order members...well, there's going to be lots of people in those two groups who have enemies. But their enemies would surely want to poison them or something, rather than make them pregnant. Besides, this potion only targets women—and only women who are in relationships with men, at that! I don't know why anyone would want to target less than fifty per cent of us..."

"That's the thing that doesn't make sense to me," Harry agreed. "Why do something that, by the laws of nature alone, will only affect such a small number of people?!"

"Actually, what concerns me more is how whoever's behind this managed to do it," Ron said. "We—you know, the Auror Office—were the ones behind the security on the night of the Ball. We _know_ it was second to none! So how was anyone able to get any form of potion into food or drink?"

"We'd have to check out the suppliers of the stuff," Harry said. "That could be our first port of call, but I wouldn't really know what we were looking for."

"Lavender's gone to St. Mungo's to talk to Healers there about the potion," explained Hermione. "As I said, she's trying to find out what it's made up of, to see if it would be possible to trace the ingredients, but as far as we know, one dose will only stay in a woman's body for the length of one menstrual cycle."

"Which is a long time, but it'll be long gone by now," sighed Harry.

"How long would it stay in a bloke's system?" asked Ron. "We don't have all that sort of stuff going on like women do, so would it stay longer? Shorter?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's something else we need to investigate; we'll have to see what Lavender comes up with. Or rather, you will. This isn't up to me any more; or at least, it won't be if you make it an official investigation."

"Right," Harry said. "In that case, I think the best thing we can do is—" He was cut off by the sound of the Floo springing to life. All three of them turned towards it, as Mr. Weasley's head suddenly appeared in the flames, looking very worried indeed.

"There you are!" he said. "I've been looking all over for you – you weren't in your office, Ron, and—"

"What's wrong?" asked Ron urgently, crouching down in front of the fireplace. Hermione sat down next to him, laying a reassuring hand on his back, and Harry hovered nervously in the background. He hadn't seen Mr. Weasley look this alarmed since the end of the war.

"Audrey collapsed at work," said Mr. Weasley. Hermione gasped. "They alerted Percy right away, and they're getting her to St. Mungo's as we speak, but it doesn't look good for the baby or...or for her."

"But...she's been completely fine up until now!" said Ron. "Why—"

"They don't know, but the important thing is, she's being taken to hospital. I promised Percy I'd go with him—he sent me a Patronus as soon as he found out, but I need you to go and tell Molly what's happened," said Mr. Weasley.

"What about the kids, little Molly and Lucy? Where are they?" asked Harry.

"They're at The Burrow with Molly, so there's no need to worry about them. But tell her to come to the hospital quickly—and Hermione, you know about fellytones, don't you?" Hermione nodded. "Can you get in touch with Audrey's parents; see if you can bring them to the hospital? They might need...to be there," he finished, hesitating ever so slightly at the end.

"Of course. We'll sort it out," she promised.

"Thanks," he said, shortly, sounding slightly frantic. "Look, I need to get back to the hospital now. I'll see you later." With that, he disappeared, leaving Hermione alone in the living room with Harry and Ron once again.

"We should get going. We'll head to your parents' house, Ron, to sort them out and—" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.

"Audrey's collapsed," he repeated, looking at them both significantly. "You said yourself that she's been perfectly fine up until now—it's all massively unexpected, and now all of a sudden she's gravely ill."

"Yes?" said Ron, feeling as though he was missing something.

"She's almost certainly only pregnant because of this potion," said Harry. "Do you think that it could have something to do with her illness?!"

* * *

_This obviously isn't the last chapter (even I wouldn't be so cruel as to leave it on a cliffhanger such as that!) but it is the last chapter for a little while as I'm off on holiday next week. There won't be any updates for a few weeks, but they'll resume as normal when I get back, and in the next chapter you actually get to find out whodunit. Or at least, who they __think__ dunit... *drifts away on a cloud of mystery/other poetic device*_

_As usual, thank you ever so to the following reviewers: HogwartsDreamer113; Wizard of night; finchelromionelover; BlueDragon22; The Golden Marauder; Pink Mockingjay (stick with me for a few chapters and you might just get your wish!); Gryffindor4Life; yellow 14 (Katie got a mention but I did miss Cho, you're right. Thanks for pointing that out, I'll have to edit for continuity later :)) Twisted Identity and Wheelchair Diva (you're the first person, I think, to spot what's up... *waves mystery cloud around again*)!_


	10. St Mungo's Hospital

**Chapter Ten: ****St. Mungo's Hospital**

"Think about it," Harry said. "We don't know what's happened to Audrey, but we're pretty sure she's taken this potion. I was talking to Percy at work the other day and he was telling me about the baby. All the tests and check-ups they've been to have said she's perfectly okay and so's the baby – and then she just collapses out of the blue. Fleur's been really, really sick and tired and just generally ill with her pregnancy – but the last two times she's been pregnant, nothing like this has happened. And you miscarried, too, Hermione! We don't know if the potion is behind all this, but it seems pretty likely that it is. And we don't know what impact it has on pregnant women, or their unborn children."

"So what do you suggest we do?" asked Ron. "Tell them this at the hospital? We don't have any proof at the moment, and we don't want to stress Audrey or Percy more than they already are—it sound like that could be quite dangerous to Audrey's health."

"No, here's what we're going to do," Harry said. "Do either of you know where Fleur or Angelina are?"

"It's Friday: that's one of the days Angelina works, so she'll be in Falmouth," Hermione said. "I'm pretty sure Fleur's at Shell Cottage."

"Right," said Harry. "Hermione, go to the Falcons' training ground and tell Angelina she's got to go to The Burrow _now_. Find Fleur, tell her the same thing, then go to the _Daily Prophet_ offices and find Ginny – make her go to The Burrow, too. It sounds like she already knows a bit about what's going on; fill her in on the rest, and get her to explain it to the others once she's there. I know your Mum will want to go to St. Mungo's to see Percy," he added, with a glance at Ron, "but I think there's something very dodgy going on with this potion. She's been pregnant herself six times; if there's anyone who can tell if something's just normal hormonal related stuff or if it's something more serious, it's her."

"That's a good point," Ron said. "If they all stay there, should one of them get ill, there's plenty of people to help out until a proper Healer could get there. But do you think something's likely to happen to them?"

"I don't know," replied Harry. "But until we _do _know what's gone on, I want them all under your mother's supervision. When you've done that, Hermione, find Audrey's parents and bring them to the hospital. I know they're Muggles, but they will be able to get in if you take them through the Visitors' Entrance."

"Okay," Hermione nodded. "What about Lavender, though? Should I let her know what's happened?"

"She's at St. Mungo's, you say?" asked Harry.

"Yes, she was hoping to speak to Padma Patil—she's a midwife, so she's likely to know about the potion and its effects, and she used to be in the DA, so we can trust her," replied Hermione.

"Right, Ron: find Bill and George, explain the situation to them and see if they can clock off work early," Harry said. "Percy'll need some support. When you've done that, get to Lavender. Any extra information she's got about this potion, get her to send it over to the Auror Office right away. You take a copy of it over to the Healers treating Audrey – if there's even any slight indication that what's happened to her isn't completely natural and they suspect something's up, give them the info."

"But what if they don't listen to me?" Ron said. "It's not like I know anything about Healing. I'm a just an Auror, for Merlin's sake!"

"Exactly, you're an Auror," Harry said. "Tell them that Audrey's the subject of an investigation by the Auror Department if you have to; say you're the lead investigator and they need to take the information into account – whatever you have to do, do it."

"Okay," nodded Ron. "What're you going to do?"

"I'm going to go straight to Robards and tell him we need to be focussing on this," Harry said. "It might be nothing—but it might be a potential breach of security at the Ministry with disastrous health consequences. And whilst that's a possibility, I won't rest until I know Ginny's going to be okay. If I have to, I'll bring out the whole Chosen One card, tell him he needs to make this a triple-A...it's one time where I wouldn't mind doing it, actually."

"If this turns out to all just be a massive coincidence, and you've persuaded him to put out an All-Auror Alert, you're going to look pretty stupid," Ron said.

"Then we'd better hope I end up looking like a fool," said Harry grimly.

* * *

"So what you're saying is, we're only pregnant because of this weird fertility potion thing?" Angelina asked, frowning at Ginny across the kitchen table at The Burrow. They were anxiously crowded round it, together with Fleur and Mrs. Weasley, whilst the five girls played in the yard. All of them tried to pretend that they weren't looking at the Weasley clock every few seconds—which had been magically expanded over the years as the family grew—where Audrey's hand pointed to the words 'Mortal Peril', and the other Weasleys' at 'Hospital'.

"Yes and no," Ginny answered. "From what I understand, the potion basically forces you to conceive, but you have to actually, you know, be having sex for conception to happen. You wouldn't get pregnant if you weren't having sex with a person capable of producing viable sperm."

"You know, that does make sense," Angelina said slowly. "George and I had been trying for a while now—you know, getting pregnant with Roxanne was a bit of a shock, really. We hadn't planned it at all, but having her helped both of us to heal so much. I know, it sounds ridiculously cheesy – I want to tell myself to shut up just saying it! – but it's true. So we'd been trying for a second baby for quite a few months now—we didn't want her to be an only child, after all. But, nothing. Until this month..."

"I mean, it _could _just be a coincidence," said Ginny doubtfully. "But Hermione's previous hunches have had a habit of being true. And Harry's very worried."

"So we are in danger, zhen?" Fleur asked weakly.

Privately, Ginny thought that Fleur was probably in the most danger of them all—she looked, to put it bluntly, awful. Of course, being part-Veela meant that she hadn't lost her looks, but there was no doubt that she looked ill. Angelina, in contrast, was practically glowing, and Ginny herself felt very well. Apart from some minor morning sickness, which had now stopped, and a few odd cravings, she was sailing through her pregnancy, though she thought it best if she didn't mention this to Fleur.

"Well, now the hospital know what's going on, we're probably better off than we have been up until now," Ginny said encouragingly, and Angelina nodded.

"I think it could be that what's happening with Audrey is just a coincidence," she said. "I mean, it's awful, of course, but it isn't necessarily related to this potion."

"I think it isn't," Mrs Weasley said, speaking up for the first time. All three women turned to look at her, and she continued. "When the potion was first invented, a friend of my mother's used it. It was prescribed to her by someone at St. Mungo's; she'd been desperate for a child for ages and this was her last chance. It worked, and she had her baby, who was perfectly healthy. The potion itself was designed for that use—it'd be no use Healers doling out a potion that actually makes you and your baby worse now, would it?"

Her mother had raised a good point, Ginny thought. "I think you're right," she said. "Hermione said that it's something Healers use in cases like that—sort of a last ditch option for people who have no other choice. They're not going to use it to raise your hopes then dash them again by forcing you to miscarry, are they?"

"That's all very true," allowed Angelina, "but we don't know for sure that this is the potion that's been forced on us. It could be a potion that forces women to miscarry or whatever..."

All of the women pondered this, but before anyone could respond, the Floo kicked into life and Hermione stepped out of it. "No news," she said immediately, and Molly, who had half-risen in her chair, sank back down. "Audrey's still in emergency surgery; Bill, George and Mr. Weasley are there with Percy and so are Audrey's parents, but there's not been any news yet."

Ginny was pressing her lips together so hard that they had pretty much disappeared, and Angelina let out a long, unsteady breath on hearing this. "Is zhere anything we can do to 'elp?" asked Fleur.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I've been sent to bring you all into the hospital." There was an immediate anxious chorus of questioning, and Hermione held up her hands. "It's not just you, it's everyone we think has been affected by this potion. The Auror Office has been sent out to bring everyone in—you guys, Susan, Hannah, Pavarti...the whole old DA lot. I volunteered to come and collect you, as they want you there as soon as possible to run some blood tests. They don't know what's going on, but if the Healers think that everything's as it should be in terms of where you are in your pregnancies, you should be allowed to go home."

Her unspoken 'and if it isn't...' seemed to hang in the air.

"I'm coming with you all," Molly said decidedly. Ginny looked relieved, but Angelina and Fleur seemed anxious.

"What about the girls?" the former asked, gesturing to the backyard where Victoire, Molly, Roxanne, Dominique and Lucy were playing together.

"We'll take them to Andromeda Tonks's," her mother-in-law replied. "She won't mind watching them for a few hours. And if...things...look like they'll take longer, I'll come back."

* * *

The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione and the woman from the Auror Office—Lavender, she thought—had just finished explaining the situation, and the women there had responded with anxiety—not so much for themselves, but for the children they were carrying. Most of the women there looked to be about three or four months pregnant; with some, it was possible to see a slight bump forming, but others kept it hidden.

Fleur sighed and looked down at her own stomach. Her baby bump was particularly pronounced because she had lost so much weight during her pregnancy: though she was not normally, by any stretch of the imagination, a large person, she had lost enough weight that her protruding stomach looked huge in comparison to the rest of her. She looked—for the first time in her life—awful.

She wasn't bothered by this so much as she was bothered by what it represented: when she had been pregnant with Victoire and with Dominique, she had felt wonderful, and she had looked it, too. Of course, being part-Veela meant that she always looked wonderful, but in the past when she had been pregnant, she had _glowed_. It may have been a cliché, but it was true—even Bill, who was practically immune to her charms, had been knocked back on occasion by how marvellous she appeared. And despite a little bit of morning sickness when she had been pregnant with Victoire for a couple of weeks; and some very bizarre food cravings when she was pregnant with Dominique (Bill still spoke in awed tones of the time she had devoured a chicken, anchovy and chocolate frog sandwich), she had hardly had any symptoms of pregnancy at all.

This time, of course, things had been different: sickness morning, noon and night; horrible dizziness giving way to actual fainting; debilitating tiredness to the point where, some mornings, she could not bring herself to get out of bed; and, perhaps worst of all, being so generally exhausted and ill she was no longer able to look after her daughters. The Healers at St. Mungo's who came daily to check on her were worried, she knew: even with their many years of experience, they had rarely seen someone react so badly to a pregnancy before now.

Until now, she had been seriously contemplating termination: both she and Bill were worried about the effects her illness was having on her two daughters, and she herself felt so bad that she wondered if her body was trying to tell her something—maybe there was something wrong with the baby, and it was trying to force a miscarriage? She certainly was yet to feel the overwhelming sense of joy she had felt when she was pregnant the previous two times. Sure, there had been anxieties—especially the first time, with Victoire—but those sorts of worries were normal, and most first-or-second-time mothers. It was beginning to seem like a termination might be the best outcome for Fleur, before the thing inside her made her even more ill, or worse, left her two daughters motherless.

And yet, sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair in St Mungo's Hospital, surrounded by many other women of around her age who were all murmuring worriedly, stroking their own burgeoning bumps with varying degrees of anxiety, Fleur found herself overwhelmed with love for the baby inside her, even if it was making her feel, on many occasions, close to death. Yes, she was ill, but this wasn't the child's fault! She had been angry at getting pregnant—she had wanted to return to work, and a third child had been something she and Bill had come to a sort of unspoken agreement wouldn't be happening for a good few years, if at all—but this was not the baby's fault. It was not even _her_ fault!

As she had listened to what Ginny had said about this potion that somehow caused a woman to be pregnant; listened to the same talk from Hermione, this time to a room full of women in the same position as her, Fleur had found herself feeling oddly (or, then again, perhaps _not_) as if she wanted to protect this child. Its beginning had been...tumultuous, perhaps, but it was still a baby—_her_ baby.

And Audrey! Poor Audrey! She was very ill, it seemed; her hand on the Weasley clock had been pointing towards 'Mortal Peril'. She might die; her baby might die. And all because of this potion—who knew what affect it might have on her own baby?

Her heart began to beat faster. Hermione and another woman had already miscarried; Audrey was seriously ill and in danger of losing both her life and her baby's, and she could be next...

"Hello, Fleur." She was glad of the distraction which arrived in the form of someone sitting down next to her, before that particular thought could be completed. A second glance told her it was Hestia Jones, Hermione's boss, whom she knew from the Order days of old. She managed a weak smile.

"Hestia," she replied. "'Ow are you?"

"Not so bad," said the older woman. "Yourself? I take it you have been affected by all this, too?"

"I 'ave," said Fleur, trying to look at Hestia's naval without being too obvious about it. "Are you also...?"

"No, not me," Hestia said, shaking her head. "I have not been with anyone since my husband passed away." Peter Jones, Fleur knew, had been one of those killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, and she made a sympathetic noise in response to this. "No, it's my daughter, Megan. She was in the same school year as a lot of these ladies."

"She is 'ere?" enquired Fleur.

Hestia nodded. "Yes, over there talking to Hannah," she said. Fleur looked in the direction in which she was pointing and quickly identified Megan, despite having never met her before. Even if she hadn't known who Hannah was, it would have been easy to identify the young woman who looked almost exactly the same as Hestia, but for her hair—where Hestia's was dark and flecked with grey, her daughter's was auburn, a few shades darker than the Weasleys'. She was speaking reassuringly to Hannah, seeming calmer than most other women in the room and somehow different to them, too.

It took Fleur a moment to work out what the difference was, but then she saw—Megan was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, both of which were pressed flat against her stomach. "Er," said Fleur, trying to find a polite way of asking the question, "she is not...with child?"

"No," said Hestia, a glimpse of sadness appearing in her eyes. "She lost the baby a few weeks ago."

Fleur felt her eyes fill with tears. "I am so sorry," she managed to say.

Hestia gave a gentle smile. "She will be better; there will be other children, later." She patted Fleur's arm. "Now, please excuse me. I must talk to Hermione."

She got up, leaving Fleur alone in her little corner, trying not to cry. The logical part of her brain knew that it was only her pregnancy hormones that were making her well up at the news of the miscarriage of a woman she didn't know at all.

But the logical part of her brain was also thinking about what had happened to Hermione, and what was happening to Audrey. And what might happen to her, next...

* * *

"George!"

Angelina's cry brought him over to where the three Weasley women were clustered. A Healer from St. Mungo's had just arrived to tell all the women in the room that they needed to stay in the hospital overnight—just as a precaution before their test results came back—and most of the room's current residents were making plans to go home and collect an overnight bag. The extended Weasley clan, however, had refused to leave until they had had word on Audrey's prognosis.

"Audrey will survive," George said simply, once he was within earshot. "She lost the baby, and she's probably not going to be able to have any more children—Percy'll explain when they know more—but she is alive."

The next few minutes were spent in relief and sadness for Audrey, before the arrival of Harry and Bill sent Ginny and Fleur off towards their husbands, leaving George and Angelina with a precious few moments of alone time.

"I have to stay," Angelina said. "They're running—"

"Tests to see if the baby's been affected by something it shouldn't have," George nodded. "I know. Harry told me."

"Good," said Angelina shortly. "So you need to go home and get my overnight bag—I _cannot_ apparate at the moment. But I had the exact same difficulty when I was pregnant with Roxanne, you know? It's probably just hormones again, nothing to worry about." Her voice was high and tight.

"I know," George said reassuringly. "You know—"

"So anyway, once you've done that, you'll need to go pick Roxanne up. She's at—"

"Andromeda Tonks's, with the others. I know, Mum told me," George cut in. "You know, everything will be okay. We'll get through this."

Angelina acted as though she hadn't heard him. "There's some things for dinner at home," she continued. "I was going to make a Shepherd's Pie, so you might want to do that once you've brought my stuff across. And make sure Roxanne eats all her vegetables—you're too lenient with her sometimes, and you know she tries to get away with hiding them under the tablecloth. There's a bag of toiletries on the dresser in our room; can you make sure that gets thrown into my bag with a change of clothes, please? Oh, and you'll need to send an owl down to Cornwall to tell work that—"

"Ange," he said, taking both of her hands in his. And somehow, this worked to slow down her heart rate; to make her feel like this wasn't the end of the world. "This will be okay. Fred will be okay. _You_ will be okay."

But though she loved him more than words could possibly say, and though she reciprocated his hug when he drew her in close, she could not believe that. Not after everything that had happened, and might happen to her baby...

* * *

_Hello lovelies! I know it's not Wednesday, but I got back from my holiday today (which was lovely, thank you for all your nice wishes!) and I thought I'd update this now, rather than making you wait another week. Plus, this way you only have to wait 6 days, rather than 7, until the next update. I spoil you, obvs. Also, I know I said that this chapter you'd get to see who's behind the potion...well, I lied. But next chapter, you honestly and truly do. Or at least, you get to see a suspect...any guesses as to who? Leave a review and let me know!_

_Many magnificent thank-yous to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I don't have time to write in all your names right now, but know that I read and savoured every single one of your reviews._


	11. Ron's Realisation

**Chapter Eleven – ****Ron's Realisation**

It wasn't the first time that Harry and Ginny had spent a night apart.

To begin with, there had been Ginny's eighth year at Hogwarts, which Harry spent living at Grimmauld Place. After school, Ginny had rented a flat in Wales with two other Holyhead Harpies players (mostly for Mrs. Weasley's sake, it was true) and though they often spent their nights together at Grimmauld Place, Ginny would sleep in her flat, away from Harry, when she had training in the early morning. Even once they'd got married and bought their house in Godric's Hollow together, Ginny had spent nights away from him when the Harpies went on tour, and of course he had been away from her whenever something had come up with the Auror Department: be that training, a case and even once or twice when he'd been injured and had to stay in St. Mungo's himself.

He hadn't enjoyed being away from Ginny on any of those occasions, of course, but this time was the worst. He'd spent as long as he could with her at the Hospital—the Spell Damage Ward, St. Mungos' largest, had been cleared so all the women who had been affected by the potion could stay in one place to be easily supervised by the Healers—but visiting hours had ended at half past eight and he, along with the other partners, had been sent home.

Around three in the morning, when he'd been tossing and turning for hours, it occurred to him that he now, at least, had a slightly better understanding of the fear and worry that Ginny went through every time he was hurt on a mission. But that didn't mean it was any easier for him to fall asleep...

* * *

"Percy?"

Audrey's voice, just after waking from her magically induced sleep, was hoarse and quiet from lack of use, but Percy heard it immediately. He sat up, completely alert, despite the fact that it was nearly half past three in the morning and he hadn't slept at all. "Audrey?" he asked gently, pulling his chair closer to her bed and feeling around for her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm...okay," she whispered back. "What happened? I remember collapsing at work...and the blood...is the baby..."

He had meant to be the strong one, taking care of her as he explained what had happened, but instead he chocked his way through the explanation of what had occurred, tears sliding down his face as he did so.

"S-so we lost the baby," Audrey said, her voice quivering only slightly. He nodded, and she was able to see, in the dim light of the hospital room, his head move slightly, though she couldn't read his expression. She breathed deeply. "We can—we can have more..."

Percy hesitated, not knowing whether it would be more painful for her to hear the news all at once or over time, but decided to go with telling her now. It was almost tantamount to lying, letting her believe that she was still capable of having children...

"But you wanted a large family!" was the first thing Audrey said, her breath hitching.

"No," Percy said firmly. "What I want is you and Molly and Lucy to be healthy and safe. And you all are. You girls are my priority, and that is all that matters. Never mind what could have been; what _is_ is that I'm lucky enough to have all three of you, still."

"But...the baby," Audrey said, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I know, I know," soothed Percy, though he knew as well as she did that nothing either of them said or did could stop the sadness they were feeling in that moment.

"Why did this have to happen to _us_?" she whispered, another tear following the first one.

This time, Percy decided not to give Audrey the full truth straight away: finding out about the potion that was somehow affecting pregnant women had been enough of a shock for him, and Audrey most definitely did not need more stress at the present time. But as the Healer on duty, who had realised Audrey had woken and come in to check on her got on with her job, he vowed that, regardless of what Harry and the Auror Department said or did, he would get to the bottom of the whole thing if it was the last thing he did. He owed it to Audrey, and to the memory of what might have been.

* * *

"We should probably go to work," Hermione said.

Ron nodded, eyes glued to the fireplace, but neither of them moved. "I mean, we don't know when the results'll come through," she reasoned. "It could take all day. I know they said they'd process the blood samples as a matter of urgency at the hospital, but brewing potions can take ages. It could be this evening before—"

"_Hermione_."

"Sorry," she said. Neither of them had slept much the previous night, and it was showing.

"S'okay," Ron replied. "And you're right. We should get to work." Once again, neither of them moved. Every time Hermione looked at the clock, she allowed herself a bit longer before she had to get to work. _Just ten more minutes... He should turn up within the next quarter of an hour... It won't be long now—Harry probably wants to make sure that Ginny gets home safely before telling us the news..._

It was not quite half past nine—they were both around thirty minutes late for work, though for once, Hermione found herself not caring. This was more important, and besides, Hestia knew what was going on. It wasn't like she was going to get fired for being a bit late one morning.

She packed, then re-packed, her briefcase (which, of course, she had sorted out the night before), washed their breakfast items without magic, then went into the bedroom to change her shoes ("I don't think these ones will be very comfortable today," she said to thin air, though she was merely changing from one pair of black flats to another). Ron wasn't even pretending to procrastinate; he was merely sat, eyes glued to the fireplace, waiting for Harry to come spinning through it and tell him that his sister—and the rest of his family—were going to be okay.

Finally, at twenty to ten, the Floo did indeed spring to life, both of them jumping to their feet the moment the flames flared green. "Ginny's okay, the baby's okay," was the first thing Harry said, before he'd even fully stepped out of the fireplace.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't even realise she'd been holding, and Ron sank down onto the sofa again in relief. "All the others are okay, too," Harry added, taking a seat next to Ron. Hermione conjured herself a chair, rather than sit on the floor, and sat down; listening to what he had to say about the rest of their family and friends.

"All the mothers and babies are okay," Harry said. "There are a couple of minor things that were discovered yesterday, but that's all apparently normal and can happen anyway in your average pregnancy. Everyone's allowed to go home except Fleur—it's just the extreme sickness thing," he added hastily at their concerned looks. "Apparently, that can happen to a tiny percentage of women naturally, so they're going to try giving her some medicine to cope with it, and then she should be okay."

"What about Audrey?" asked Ron.

"She'll be okay," Harry said. "Eventually. She's not going to be able to have any more kids, but she will recover. She had an ecto—etoc—"

"Ectopic pregnancy?" supplied Hermione.

"Yes, that," Harry said. "Very dangerous, but very rare, and again can happen naturally. She also had massive internal bleeding so they had to given her an emergency hysterectomy, hence the no-more-kids thing, but it's just a case of her being horrendously unfortunate—or at least, that's what the Healers think. No foul play; all a bit of a red herring so to speak."

"But?" prompted Ron. They could both hear the unspoken word in his voice.

"_But_," repeated Harry, his expression turning grim. "I should, I guess, reiterate that all the babies are fine, so far as they can tell. They won't know the full story until they're all born, but there's no reason to suspect that there's any greater risk than average for anyone's kid to be born with some kind of illness or whatever. But they _all_, without exception, were conceived under the effects of the pregnancy potion."

"They're positive?" Hermione asked. "One hundred per cent sure?"

Harry nodded. "The potion stays in the baby's bloodstream until it's born, then it loses it naturally over time. Doesn't harm the kid, but it's there, and with the right combination of charms and everything, the Healers can see it. So someone, somehow, managed to get the potion into all of those women—and more besides. The potion stays in an adult's bloodstream for around a month, too, so people like you, Hermione, who miscarried would have had it in there—hell, even me and Ron would."

"The potion works on men, too?" asked Ron, surprised.

"No, but it stays in the body," Harry said. "It just doesn't do anything. Padma says it's a bit like taking Pepper-Up if you don't have a cold: it won't do anything for you, but it'll still be present in your body." He sighed. "At least you and Lavender can be pleased that you're not paranoid; there really _is_ someone sneaking potion into people's drinks or whatever."

"Got any clever ideas about who's doing it or why?" Ron asked his wife, only half-joking.

Hermione shook her head. "Not a clue," she said. "I think I'll hand the investigation over to the Auror Office for that bit," she added drily. "Although I do maintain that it was someone who was at the Charity Ball in April. The timing fits with when the conceptions happened, and when else were we all together? I mean _everyone:_ ex-DA, ex-Order..."

"It is the most reasonable explanation," said Harry. "_Still_ doesn't provide us with a perpetrator—or even a motive, though."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out though," Ron said bracingly. "Especially if we get the whole office on this. What?" he added, noticing Harry pull a face at this remark. "We have proof now—an actual case. They've got to let us investigate!"

"I spoke to Robards last night," Harry said. "He agrees it's a concern, but he thinks we should be concentrating on the Yaxley case. And we should! It _is_ important. But we've got him locked up; we haven't got the person doing this, have we? We, uh," and here he broke off, looking rather sheepish, "may have disagreed slightly about it."

"Disagreed slightly?" Hermione asked. Despite everything, her lips were twitching at Harry's embarrassed flush.

"He accused me of putting the personal before the professional," he muttered. "Which I guess I was. But this is _important_, damn it!"

"It is," she sighed, "so we'd better get to the Ministry. You two'll have to figure out a way to work on both cases at once. You're big boys now—I'm sure you can do it."

"Oh, there's a way," Harry said.

"Oh, good," Hermione said, but Ron could read his best friend slightly better than her.

"What am I doing now?" he groaned.

"Nothing too awful," Harry said quickly. "I'll cover for you during the day, and do all the paperwork related to the Yaxley trial next month that Robards asked you to do. _You_ are going to take a two hour lunchbreak and take your wife somewhere nice for lunch. Of course, it just so happens that your wife knows this case probably better than anyone in the Office, so if the two of you were to spend the lunch bouncing ideas off each other, it wouldn't hurt..."

To Hermione, this plan didn't sound too bad at all, but there was clearly a caveat; Ron was eyeing Harry suspiciously. "In exchange for?" he asked.

"In exchange for you staying late tonight and covering my shift so's I can get back to Ginny at about four," Harry said quickly. "She is pregnant!" he pleaded.

"Yeah, and who's fault is that, Potter?" Ron asked, switching into big-brother mode.

"Technically," Harry said thoughtfully. "_Technically_, with everything that's going on, you could make a case for it _not_ being my fault, even though—yeah, alright," he conceded. Hermione laughed. "Oh, and I've booked and comp'd you a table at the Leaky. Hannah'll sort you out with a private room, Neville said."

"I'm guessing I should make the most of it because he won't be back until late?" Hermione asked.

"Probably around midnight, one ish," Harry said with a wince. "Sorry, mate."

"It's alright," Hermione sighed. "I'll have to stay late at work tonight to make up for this morning myself," she said, although truth be told she wasn't too bothered. She had no meetings that day, just lots and lots of reading to be doing in preparation for the first reading of the House Elf Rights' Bill next month. Besides, she knew Hestia would understand, and anyway, she wasn't even sure she'd get any work done today, what with everything else that was playing on her mind.

She sighed. Despite all that, they had better get to work, if they were to get any closer to solving this mystery.

* * *

Hermione got to the Leaky Cauldron first—at around half eleven, Hestia had finally sent her home for the day, ordering her to get some rest. "You deserve it, after everything that's happened," she'd said. "We can cope without you for a day or so. Use the time to go over the Bill again—I'm not happy about the final section; I think we might need to redraft that at some point before the reading. But you don't have to be in the Office to do that, so go off and relax for a bit."

Hermione had tried to protest, but Hestia had insisted, and in the end Hermione had realised that her boss was right. She was so wrapped up in this case—it was almost like being back at school, with some strange mystery to solve, although mercifully, this time it didn't seem to have anything to do with Voldemort—that she'd been neglecting her own work. She felt guilty over this—Hestia was an understanding boss, and much nicer to work for than the crotchety and bad-tempered Gawain Robards—but still, she shouldn't take advantage of this. She resolved to stay at home, as Hestia had insisted, but return after the weekend refreshed and with the section of the Bill Hestia had mentioned completely redrafted.

She was still musing on this when she reached the pub, and distractedly gave an order for various sandwiches and cakes and two bottles of butterbeer to the girl behind the bar. "Actually," she said, coming down to Earth with a bump, "no butterbeer please. It's too hot today. I'll have, um, two pints of cider instead. And I think the table's already been booked for us? It's for Mr and Mrs Weasley..."

The girl gave her the two drinks and pointed her in the direction of the stairs. Hermione easily found the small room that had been booked for them—she was glad of its privacy; today of all days, she didn't want to play the war hero to the other diners—and sat down at the table. Despite the heat, the room was pleasant—the walls were painted white in a manner almost reminiscent of the Mediterranean; large windows let in plenty of sunshine and the room was very cool—she suspected the use of cooling charms.

She settled down to wait for Ron, but had hardly been there five minutes when a familiar voice sounded outside. "Food's up!"

Hannah had arrived in the doorway, the various platters hovering in the air in front of her until she sent them zooming over to the table. Despite the fact that she hadn't been exerting herself physically at all in carrying the plates, she sounded oddly breathless, and swayed alarmingly on the spot once they had been set down on the table. Hermione rushed forward and helped her into a chair, asking if she wanted her to fetch anyone, but Hannah waved her concerns away.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said. "Just a bit dizzy, that's all. It's happening all the time at the moment." Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh no, it's nothing to do with everything that's going on. Just a side effect of being pregnant. The sickness has stopped—which I'm _very_ grateful for—but it's been replaced by this stupid dizziness. I've been swooning like a woman in a romance novel all over the place, and—oh, _thank _you!" she cried, accepting the glass of water Hermione had conjured. Some of the colour returned to her cheeks as she drank it.

"Can't you take a break?" Hermione asked. "The girls downstairs seemed to have everything under control when I ordered."

Hannah shook her head. "Nope," she said. "Can't afford to." At Hermione's puzzled look, she continued. "I sank everything I had into running this place. We do well, but only because I work hard. The girls are good, but they're only waitresses, they can't be expected to do everything—that's my job. And one of them called in sick today, so I'm working the floor as well as doing my usual work. It's going to be hard enough affording cover come January; I absolutely cannot afford to start paying extra staff now."

"Can't Neville—" Hermione began, but Hannah shook her head again.

"Nev's in a mad rush to finish his research so it's ready for publication come September," she said. "Of course, things will be easier for us in September financially, because he'll have started at the school then. But that's still a while off, and of course, he actually needs to finish his research before he can become a professor, so..." She drifted off.

Hermione frowned slightly. From what she remembered of Hannah from school, she had always been nice and friendly, but perhaps not the brightest of girls. The other two girls in Hufflepuff that year had always seemed much more reliable somehow—Susan had been very bright, rivalling Hermione herself in some subjects, and Megan, Hestia's daughter, admittedly didn't have Susan or Hermione's brains, but was an excellent people person: a homesick first year or heart-broken third year or stressed OWL student were often sorted out with a kind word and willing ear from Megan. Hannah, whilst pleasant, had never been the brains of the bunch, so it was to everyone's surprise once school was over that she turned out to have an excellent head for business with which to utterly transform the Leaky Cauldron. No one had a bad word to say about the completely redesigned pub these days—so, Hermione supposed, such a change obviously came at a big financial cost.

She cast around for something to say; she wanted to seem sympathetic to Hannah's plight, but not like she pitied her. However, the other woman continued before Hermione herself could get a word in: she was clearly glad to have someone to vent to, and Hermione was the nearest person. She resolved to let Hannah get it out of her system—it wasn't like she had anything else to be doing before Ron arrived.

"I just...when I found out we were having a baby, it was such a massive shock, you know?" Hannah said.

_You have no idea_ Hermione felt like saying, but hummed sympathetically instead.

"But I thought...well, I thought that it was me not being careful enough, so I decided to keep it...I mean, it's not the baby's fault, is it?" she asked, defensively.

"Of course not," Hermione murmured.

"It wasn't great timing, but these things often aren't, and we thought...well, we thought that Nev'd have four months to get settled at Hogwarts before the baby came, so we thought that we'd just make the best of it. We certainly don't have it as bad as some!" Hannah sighed. "But then yesterday, I found out about the potion, and how it _wasn't_ us making a mistake; how we were sort of forced into this... It just makes me feel really..." She drifted off again, waving her hands around as she cast around for the right word to describe how she felt.

"Angry?" supplied Hermione.

"Not...not angry, as such," Hannah said. "More violated, almost. And I know that's silly—it's not like anyone did anything to me against my will, this is definitely Neville's baby!" she added immediately. "It's just...whoever's behind this potion, they're messing with people's lives. Not just mine and Nev's, but this baby's, too. It's just not right."

Hermione made a sympathetic noise, but before she could formulate a proper response, the door opened and Ron walked in. Hannah got to her feet as Ron greeted both women, pasting a smile on her face. "I'll be off then, you two enjoy your meal!" she said, after returning Ron's hello.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Hermione worriedly.

"Of course I am!" Hannah said bracingly, though Hermione wasn't entirely fooled. "Just give us a shout if you need anything."

"What was all that about?" Ron asked, once she'd gone.

Hermione shrugged, pushing the plate of sandwiches towards him. "People are just finding this whole thing difficult to deal with," she said. "And I don't blame them. Hannah's right—whoever's behind this is messing with peoples' _lives_!" She stabbed a piece of salad angrily with a fork.

"Is this about your miscarriage?" asked her husband, after studying her carefully for a moment.

"No," said Hermione, then sighed. "I suppose yes, in a way. I don't know. I just wish we knew who was behind all this!"

"Well, let's start again," Ron said, pulling a second plate of sandwiches towards him. "Right from the beginning. What do we know for sure?"

But despite discussing the situation in great detail for nearly two hours, neither of them were able to come up with anything new, least of all a motive or suspect. "Still," said Ron, as they sorted out enough change to leave a tip, "at least we had a nice lunch on Harry's expense!"

Hermione laughed. "If you're going to be out late tonight, do you want me to ask the waitress if she'll wrap up any of these leftovers for you to have later?" she asked, gesturing to the food that was still on the table.

"Yes please," Ron said. "I might even as her if she...if..._Merlin's balls_!" he breathed.

Hermione looked up in alarm, expecting to see something awful happening, but instead, Ron just looked delighted. "What?" she asked urgently. "What is it?"

"The waitresses!" he cried, reaching over and hugging her in delight. "How could we miss it?"

"Miss _what_?!" Hermione asked, extracting herself from his hug and frowning at him.

"Who has access to all the food and drink at an event? The waitresses!" Ron said. "We've been wasting time trying to track the sale of random ingredients, but that's virtually impossible. If we look at the security records, which we have because the security for the ball was done by us at the Ministry, we can see who was part of the serving team and see if there's anyone who has a connection to the people at the ball—basically, if there's someone on the list who wants to harm people who were in the DA or Order."

"But what if there's no name on the list that we recognise?" Hermione asked.

"We're the Auror Office, we'll investigate the background of everyone on that list," Ron said impatiently. "It could be that they're all innocent, but it's the best idea we've got so far for finding the suspect so..."

"You're right," Hermione said. "Let's go!"

* * *

"Hold that lift!"

Lavender responded to the cry automatically, throwing her arm in the doorway of the lift to prevent it closing, and was surprised to see a panting Ron and Hermione running into it. "Have you found something?" she asked urgently, once she had realised who is what and what their frantic expressions could mean. "What's going on? Do we have a suspect?"

"Let 'em catch their breath, Lav," Seamus said, and Hermione shot him a grateful glance.

Ron, who was fitter than Hermione these days due to his Auror training, recovered first and filled the other two in on his realisation. Lavender and Seamus exchanged a wry look. "Looks like we're going back where we've just come from then!" she said.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"We were just heading out for a late lunch," said Seamus, "Lav came to pick me up from the office—you know, the Hit Wizards' HQ. We've got all the records from the Ball; the Auror Office passed on security for it to us, thinking there wouldn't be too many issues..." Ron chuckled.

"We don't want to hold you up," Hermione said quickly. "If the two of you want to go and grab some lunch, Ron and I can—"

"And miss potentially finding out who our man is?" scoffed Lavender. "I think not!"

Thanks to Seamus's identification, they were able to find the file on security at the Ball with ease once they were in the Hit Wizards' Office and were soon feverishly flicking through the pages.

"Risk Assessments—no, that's not it..."

"Food and drink suppliers, we don't want that!"

"No, keep that one Ron—it could be useful later, if this search doesn't throw anything up..."

"I think there might be a second folder of things somewhere; d'you want me to see if I can find that one lurking around?"

"I've got it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Signing in sheet for catering and security staff at the event...let me see..._oh Merlin_!" At her voice, the other three froze, before jostling for position to see what had caused the sudden quiet triumph in her voice. "I've found our suspect. We've got her."

Seamus got there first and let out a low whistle when he saw the name Hermione was pointing to. "Of _course_. No offense, but she's hated you since Hogwarts' days..."

"Who is it?" Lavender demanded impatiently. Being much smaller than Ron, she was able to elbow her way next to Hermione, and her eyes went to the line the other woman was pointing to with a slightly shaking finger. "Well," she said simply, as Hermione passed the parchment to Ron so that he could see who the suspect was. "_Well_."

* * *

_So, yeah, answers on a postcard..._

_Thank you to all the lovely reviewers! HogwartsDreamer113 (good guess but no!); finchelromionelover; Pumpkin130; krikanalo; Pink Mockingjay; yellow 14 (thanks for the lovely review! I will say that one of your guesses is correct—or at least, correct for now *mysterious bead stroking*); The Golden Marauder; Wizard of night; Iminlovewiththephantom; jubs-vj and TessiePotterForever :)_


	12. Aurors Abound

**Chapter 12: ****Aurors Abound**

"It makes total sense," said Hermione. "Pansy Parkinson's disliked me since first year, but it's not just me—her Slytherin crowd used to hate the DA. And we've all been so successful since we've left Hogwarts, and she's just a total non-entity."

"We'd have to work out how she did it, of course," Ron said. "But she'd be a prime candidate for a suspect."

"How are you going to approach her?" Seamus asked. "Arrest her, send in a squad of us Hit Wizards? But it's just a hunch still—will you have to bring her in to assist an investigation, and formally charge her later?"

"I don't know," replied Ron. "I'll talk to Harry, he'll be better at—"

"Wait a minute," Lavender cut in. She was frowning at a piece of parchment she'd pulled from her bag, which she handed to Hermione. "Look at this. It's detailed instructions on how to brew the potion which causes pregnancy—Padma sent it to me this morning."

"It's complicated," Hermione said. "Wow, and it takes three weeks to brew, but you have to stir it for an hour each day...that's a lot of effort to put into a potion. And some of the ingredients cost an absolute fortune!"

"The Parkinsons aren't exactly hard up though, are they?" asked Seamus.

"It's not that," Lavender said. "Think about Pansy in our old Potions class at school. Now, I dropped it after OWL, and I think she did too, but...she wasn't great at Potions. She was like me: not on Crabbe or Goyle's level, but no skilled Potioneer. And, no offence, Hermione, but I think even you might struggle with brewing this."

"It's a fair point," said Ron, "but she doesn't have to have actually brewed the potion herself. She could have got someone else to brew it—this could be some sort of larger plot that she's only one small part of. She could even have stolen a pre-brewed batch from St. Mungo's or somewhere!"

Hermione and Seamus nodded at this, but Lavender seemed unconvinced. "Look, don't get me wrong," she began. "I hate her. I think she's a complete and utter cow and I have done since first year. But. I really don't think this is her. She's not stupid, but she's definitely someone who gets other people to do the dirty work for them. Also, if she'd tried to poison everyone in the DA, that'd be one thing. But make them pregnant? I know different people react differently, but for the majority of married couples—which, let's face it, is what the DA is these days—a baby is _good_ news. Pansy Parkinson, conspiring to make us all happy? I don't think so."

"I see what you're saying, but I think it's that she's likely to be part of a bigger conspiracy," Ron said. "I agree she's not bright enough to do this alone, but who knows how many people are involved here? If we bring her in for questioning, we can do the whole good cop/bad cop thing and get her to at least name the others who are involved."

"So you definitely think she's a part of this?" asked Hermione.

"It makes sense," her husband replied. "When Harry and I first joined up, one of our first raids was on the Parkinson house. Her father and older brother—or maybe it was a cousin; I dunno, I'd have to check the file—were convicted as Death Eaters. They only got ten years, I think, because they weren't quite in You-Know-Who's inner circle, but they sympathised enough that we could get 'em on other charges. Maybe she thinks she's avenging them." Lavender still did not seem convinced, but before she could say anything, a tall, broad-shouldered Asian man approached Seamus's cubby, where the four of them were gathered.

"Pardon me for overhearing," he began. "But I couldn't help hearing you say that you had a suspect for the case? Is that true?"

It took Hermione a moment to place the man, but she quickly realised he was Pavarti's husband, Ashwin, who was a Deputy Head of the Hit Wizard Squad. He had been at the Hospital the previous night with his wife, and as her twin sister was a Healer, he presumably knew the case almost as well as they did.

"I only mention it because I have some authority round here," he continued. "If you need someone to be brought in, don't bother with sending an official request down from the Auror Office. I'll authorise it myself now, and deal with the paperwork later. This is important; I want to find the suspect _now_ and not wait to see if they harm other people."

It was not just Ashwin who was looking interestedly at them—many of the other Hit Wizards in the Office seemed keen to know what was going on, even if they didn't have a personal involvement in the case as he did. Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Ron. Ashwin was a nice person, as were most of the others. But the case was meant to be kept secret, and it wouldn't do to be broadcasting Auror Office information to a roomful of people, even if most of them were well intentioned.

Fortunately, Seamus seemed to have gathered this, too. "It's complicated, chaps," he said loudly. "If you've got time, I'll fill you in on what's been going on..." He turned back to Hermione, Ron and Lavender. "You guys go," he muttered. "I won't tell this lot anything important, so you go off and do whatever you need. But do send us down a memo if you need anything."

The three of them hurried off to the Auror Office, not talking much. Their tense silence was broken only by Ron announcing that he was off to find the file on Pansy's father when they arrived in the mostly deserted office. There were only one other person there, a rather elderly looking witch with an eye-patch. Taking a seat next to Lavender, Hermione found herself wondering where Harry had got to—he wasn't due to go home for another couple of hours. She hoped something unrelated to the potion incident hadn't come up; Ginny didn't need any more stress at the moment, and having him be injured in the field might just finish her off.

"Okay," Lavender said. "Let's think outside the box for a moment. Who else in the DA does Pansy Parkinson dislike?"

"Um, everyone who was there during the year the Carrows were at school?" Hermione responded, as though it was obvious.

"Mmm, yes..." Lavender said. "But the thing is, she was never really involved in what they were doing, not to the extent that some Slytherins were. Oh, don't get me wrong, she'd _say _loads of stuff. She'd call us Mudbloods, half-breeds, muggle-lovers, suggest we should all be put down for the benefit of society—all the usual Pureblood crap. But she didn't actually do much. She'd try to get out of actually performing the Cruciatus as much as possible—she'd actually delegate that to other people, like Crabbe and Goyle or a couple of other sixth years. I don't think it was to protect us or anything, but she never really...got her hands dirty, so to speak. Or maybe she was just too stupid to actually cast it correctly, I don't know. So if she _is_ behind this potion, it seems a bit out of character."

"I see what you're saying," Hermione said slowly. "And to be honest, while I think Pansy fits the bill for a suspect in many ways, the one thing I can't understand is her motive. _Why_ would she want to make everyone pregnant?! Like you said before, if it was poisoning us, that I could understand, but—"

"Excuse me," said a voice, cutting across her musings. "Do you have clearance to be in here?" It was the witch with the eye-patch, and whilst her tone had been pleasant, there was a glint of icy steel in her one visible eye that made Hermione start.

"Oh, er..." she stuttered, flushing slightly. Technically, she didn't. Whilst no one objected to her coming in to pick Ron up at the end of the working day, as a couple of other Aurors' partners did, she knew that involving someone who was not an Auror on a case to the extent that they were currently was, strictly speaking, illegal.

"It's alright," Lavender said smoothly. "Hermione's been helping us with our investigations."

"Be that as it may, the investigation you speak of has been taken over by the Auror Office, and, as Chief Intelligence Officer, Auror Brown, you of all people should know better than to bring a member of the public inside," said the witch.

Fearing Lavender was soon to be disciplined, Hermione stood up. "I'll just be going..." she mumbled.

"Oh, no no no!" said the witch, breaking into a broad grin, "I'm just joshing with you, love. I know who you are."

"Er...you do?" asked Hermione.

"'Course I do, dearie," she smiled. "Everyone knows Hermione Granger! Though you married our Ron last year, didn't you? So what are you now? Weasley? Granger-Weasley?"

"Granger at work still, as that's what I was known by professionally, but Weasley in my personal life," Hermione replied, thinking privately that this was one of the most surreal situations she had ever found herself in.

"Lovely, lovely!" cried the witch. "Anyway, sit down, sit down; I've got something to discuss with you ladies about this case of yours."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Lavender. "But Betty, you just said—" began Lavender.

The witch—Betty, Hermione surmised—waved her hands around. "Oh, I was just making a point," she said. "Now, _sit_." Hermione, now slightly alarmed, sat, and the woman turned to her. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. My name's Betty, Betty Callington. I know you, of course—Hermione Granger, Weasley, whatever. All us muggleborns do. Oh yes, my parents were muggles. Long dead now, they are, but they were muggles nonetheless. Didn't stop me becoming one of the best Aurors in the field back in the day, minor injuries notwithstanding," she added, pointing at her eye-patch. "'Course, all that was for naught during the war. Kingsley got me out this time; though to be honest, all I'd been doing since the war ended was paperwork... But he brought me back after everything was over—back out of hiding, I mean—he said we needed a safe pair of hands to help guide the youngsters, stop them from doing something silly. And he was right, wasn't he?" she said this last bit very sharply, and rounded on Lavender with an almost Professor McGonagall-ish glare.

Lavender jumped and stuttered.

"Oh, don't you worry, I'm not going to fire you," said Betty, relaxing back into her easy grin. "I'm just trying to make a point to you. Who are the three deputies in the Auror Office?"

Lavender's mystified look at this sudden change of subject let Hermione know that she wasn't the only one who was utterly confused by Betty Callington, but she answered anyway. "Yourself, Harry and Bob Shankley, and Gwaine Robards is the Head."

"Correct, of course," Betty smiled. She turned to Hermione. "Now, Gwaine is a good Department Head, but he's an absolute stickler for protocol. And, Auror Brown, you've hardly followed the correct protocols on this case, have you? Even now, you're still insisting on involving a civilian."

"But you just said—"

"I know what I just said, and I happen to think that Ms. Granger-Weasley here _should _be involved in this particular case," said Betty. "But Gwaine isn't going to see it like that. _He's_ going to think that we should be concentrating on the Yaxley case, given everything that's going wrong with that, and the fact that his trial is due imminently. So Auror Potter running in and demanding that we drop all that to focus on this case, when you don't even have a suspect yet, _and_ the majority of you have a personal involvement in what's been going on...well, you can see why he doesn't like it. You're also forgetting that Bob Shankley's sister and her husband and kids were killed by Yaxley in the war. If Gwaine pulls everyone in to help on that case, of course Bob's going to side with him."

"But you're not?" Lavender asked shrewdly.

"I think you're on to something important here," Betty said simply. "Besides, this isn't right. This person—whoever they are—has been taking away the autonomy of all these women in effectively forcing them to get pregnant. I don't agree with that."

"That's what Hannah was saying earlier," Hermione mused aloud.

Both women turned to look at her. "Er—one of the women who's been affected by this whole thing. She's going to have her baby, but I don't think she's happy about the timing of it, and she said she wouldn't have chosen to have a baby now, if she could help it," she said.

"You see? That's not right," said Betty. "Everyone has the right to decide what to do with their own body. I fought for that in the seventies with the Muggles and my mother, God rest her soul, was a suffragist!" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I am over ninety years old, love," Betty said. "But yes, she fought alongside the Pankhursts for the right for women to vote. If she thought I wasn't helping out the cause here..." She drifted off and shrugged. Hermione looked harder at her: she'd originally put her in her mid-sixties, but then she remembered that witches and wizards tended to live older than Muggles.

"Well, it's not really the same thing, is it?" Lavender said. "Not like not having the right to vote, I mean. It's just a few people getting pregnant, most of whom happen to be married, or at least in long term relationships! I mean, the potion itself doesn't work if you're celibate, so—"

"Yes, but what if the potion had been slipped into the drink of a load of Hogwarts students?" asked Betty. "We all know what hanky-panky starts going on by the time you get to sixth and seventh year!" Hermione and Lavender carefully avoided each others eyes. "Then you'd get a load of seventeen year olds who are pregnant...not good at all, no, no, no."

The thought of Isabel Spinnett—Alicia's cousin—popped into Hermione's brain, and she suppressed a shudder. She was right.

"Well, we have a suspect now," Lavender, who had clearly been thinking along the same lines, said brightly.

"You do? Tell me all the details," Betty said at once. Hermione let Lavender do most of the talking and she explained their suspicions. She had just finished talking when Ron appeared.

"Hi, Betty," he said rather absent-mindedly, clutching a folder full to bursting with parchment.

"Hello Ron," she replied. "I was just telling these two lovely ladies how your wife here is breaking all sorts of rules just by being in this room!"

"Oh—I—oh," Ron stuttered, looking from Betty to Hermione and back again. Betty held her severe look for a second longer, then broke into a broad smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to discipline you. Just don't make a habit of it." She gave a conspiratorial wink. "Is that the Parkinson file?"

"It is," Ron said, dropping down into a chair next to them. "The trial of Pansy Parkinson's father and brother was one of the first cases I worked on. They both ended up being sent to Azkaban for ten years for aiding Voldemort—they were never in his inner circle, but they did enough to put them away for some time. _But_ the interesting thing is, until they had to sell them to pay their legal fees, the Parkinson family owned a chain of Apothecaries in magical communities up and down the country. So it would not be inconceivable to suggest that she would at least know who to turn to to get the ingredients for the Potion—a quiet word in a certain supplier's ear, a promise to put in a good word for them when she manages to get her family out of jail..."

Lavender nodded, but Hermione was shaking her head. "See, we're back to square one again here," she said. "Say Pansy's behind this potion. She's the one forcing everyone to get pregnant; you get the proof you need to convict her. But, assuming we hadn't started suspecting her—or even that something was up—how does this help her get her Dad out of Azkaban?"

"She has a point," Betty said. "We should have you on our team."

"Oh, no," said Hermione at once. "Not me. Definitely not."

"Shame," said Betty. "Can I have those?" She held out both hands, and Lavender and Ron both passed her the stacks of parchment they were holding; Ron giving her the Parkinson file, and Lavender the sheets of parchment which bore Pansy's signature proving she was a waitress at the Ball.

"It could be a distraction," suggested Lavender. "You know, make us concentrate on this case, instead of something else much more serious like..."

"The Yaxley case?" suggested Ron. "Speaking of which, where the hell is everyone?"

"Robards called an All Auror Alert," Betty said, scanning the parchment quickly. "There was a disturbance at—" She paused and looked at Hermione. "The location where there was the incident a few weeks ago. You know, where Yaxley told us to go and a bunch of Aurors were ambushed. We've been monitoring it and...well, there was another incident. Everyone's out there now securing the premises."

"Shit," said Ron. "Any injuries?"

"Nothing major, but still not good," Betty said.

"It sounds like your distraction theory could be our best shot," Ron said, addressing Lavender. "We're all looking at this, when actually we should be concentrating on Yaxley."

"But we _are_ concentrating on Yaxley," Lavender argued. "What if it's a distraction from something else, a _third_ danger?"

"Can't you...I don't know, get a warrant to search Pansy's house or something for evidence of the potion?" Hermione asked.

"Nope," Ron said. "Well, yeah, but you need clearance from two of the senior staff to do that. Harry would, but he's out in the field, and—"

"I'll do it," Betty said. "We can search her house later, what we can do now is pull her in for questioning. You only need one senior authorisation for that, and my signature will suffice. And we need to do this now. Look." She held out the parchment that Lavender had given her, pointing.

"Yeah, she signed in at five," Ron said, and Hermione heard the unspoken "We know," at the end of his sentence.

"No, look," breathed Lavender. On the second page, below five or six other signatures was printed "P. Parkinson", followed by a second signature.

"Something's not right here," Betty said, reverting to a strictly professional tone. "Lavender, fetch the blue folder on my desk and a quill, and alert the Hit Wizard Squad. Hopefully she'll come quietly, but if she doesn't, we'll need back up. Ron, you will need to fetch her in case there _is_ any trouble—my wandwork isn't what it once was. But you can't question her: you're too closely involved in the case. You, too, Auror Brown—I'll do the questioning. We need to find out exactly what went on that night to take this case any further."

"You can make Robards listen to us?" asked Lavender.

"I trained him," she replied simply. "I can't overrule him _technically_, but he knows when to shut up and do as I say. Oh—and Ms. Granger-Weasley? You'll have to leave, I'm afraid. This is pushing the boundaries of correct protocol even for me..."

"No, I understand," Hermione said. She had no desire to see Pansy anyway, and the sooner the case was solved, the better for everyone involved.

"I'll see her out, then be right back," Ron said, taking her by the arm.

"Go to Harry and Ginny's place," he said. "I don't _think_ anything's likely to happen once we take Pansy in, but just in case—if she resists or has backup or whatever—they've got better wards. Harry'll be along as soon as he can, but if he's busy on this other case..."

"Yeah, I know," Hermione said. "I'll explain to Ginny what's going on. You take care, now."

"I'll be fine," he said dismissively.

"You'd better be, or I'll make sure you're not," she replied, trying—and failing—to sound threatening.

"I love you," he answered.

"I love you, too." They kissed, briefly but passionately, then she turned away, heading for the Ministry's Atrium from where she could safely leave for Godric's Hollow. Ron watched her until she disappeared round the corner, then turned back inside.

* * *

Hermione had just lost the seventeenth game of Exploding Snap (taking the overall score to eight-nine in Ginny's favour) when the floo burst into life. On edge already, both witches grabbed their wands and did not lower them until Harry had adequately proved who he was.

"Ron's going to be late," he said, stepping out of the fireplace. "He's absolutely fine, but he's—he's—he's—" he broke off, yawning hugely. Ginny immediately began fussing around her husband in a manner ridiculously reminiscent of her mother, sending him upstairs to change and reheating some food for him to eat, sprawled out on the sofa, and so it was several minutes before Hermione and Ginny learned what had gone on when Pansy had been taken in for questioning.

"Well," Harry said, around mouthfuls of casserole. "She denied everything. 'Course she did. Well, she agreed she was a waitress at the Ball—she said she needed the extra cash because the only job she can get is a two day a week position in Magical Games and Sports as a paper pusher and it's not making her enough money to survive on."

"My heart bleeds," Ginny said flatly.

"I know," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, she maintains that she signed on at seven, and whoever the Pansy Parkinson signing on at five is is someone else. So we ask her if she has an alibi who can prove she was elsewhere at five—at work still, at her house, doing some shopping in Diagon Alley, whatever—and she says she does."

"But?" asked Hermione.

"But she refuses to give up his or her name, no matter what we say," Harry said.

"What?" yelped Hermione, as Ginny made similar noises of shock.

"She actually is as thick as she looks!" she exclaimed—and here, Hermione saw her resemblance to Ron.

"Well, that's what we were thinking," Harry said. "We were also thinking that Pansy Parkinson is in no fit shape to be brewing up a potion that complicated. Lavender told me that straight off the bat, whilst we listened to Betty Callington—you met...? Okay good—question her. And I agree: she's just not that bright," he swallowed some more food. "But our questioning's getting nowhere, so we send in a team to her flat. Absolutely nothing of any interest found at all; we used our best Dark detectors and they come up with nothing, the only thing she has is a few basic wards to keep out strangers, and let's face it, that's standard practise in magical households across the country. Then we open her kitchen cupboards. Sat next to the sugar bowl and breakfast cereal is a large phial of the potion. It's clearly labelled, and tests from St. Mungo's come back straight away saying yep, this is most definitely _the_ potion."

"That's..." Hermione began, drifting off as she failed to put into words the absurdity of it all.

"It's like walking into Gringotts with a bag labelled 'Swag' and announcing you're going to rob the place," Ginny said. "Insanely obvious."

"Absolutely," agreed Harry. "So Betty's still questioning her at this point, and she mentions that we've found this potion. And Pansy absolutely swears that she has nothing to do with it—her whole manner changes. Before, it was like we were wasting her time and she's too good for us; now it's like she's realised that she could get into trouble for something if she's not careful, and she's panicking because she's innocent, but she knows she doesn't seem it."

"So have you arrested her?" asked Ginny.

"Nope," Harry said. "No, hear me out. If we formally charge her, she's allowed to talk about the whole thing, so she can get a lawyer and whatnot. If we _don't_ charge her, we can get her to sign a magically binding contract that says, basically, 'we think you're innocent for now but we don't want word of this top secret investigation getting out, so in exchange for walking free, you're forbidden from talking about this with anyone'. It's legal, because if we _do _charge her at a later date, she's completely free to talk about the questioning with her legal representation or whatever, and it prevents our information being leaked."

"You don't think she's behind it then?" Hermione asked.

"I think she's perhaps behind some kind of distraction, or maybe she's even being framed, I'm not sure," Harry said. "But she's certainly not the sole mastermind. We're running fingerprint tests on that phial right now, though, so hopefully that should give us another lead on who to question. If not, it's back in with Pansy, though I honestly don't think she knows anything worth knowing. Think about it—would you want someone like Pansy Parkinson planning a coup or whatever with you? No, you'd have her as the fall guy. Girl. Whatever. If we let her go free, we're hoping that the real person who's behind this will approach her, and she won't be able to warn them we're onto them because of the magically binding contract."

"Is that where Ron is, monitoring the situation?" Hermione asked.

"No, he's trying to sort of some of the Yaxley stuff," Harry sighed. "He seems to be communicating with someone outside—or they're communicating with him—except of course that's impossible. We've confiscated his wand and are monitoring all his letters in and out, not that there have been more than three. The only person he's been allowed to see was his wife, and that's only been twice—oh, and his lawyer. But even their visits are monitored; we leave Aurors in the room with them. It's a mess," he sighed. "Ron's trying to get to the bottom of it with Robards and Shankley and some of the others, but don't expect him back until the small hours."

Hermione echoed his sigh. "I'll go back home to wait for him, then," she said.

"No," said Harry. "He said—and I agree—that just in case...well... Look, we don't think the whole potion thing or the Pansy thing is too big of a risk at the moment. But just in case it somehow gets out that you are involved, Ron wants you to stay with us tonight. He'll come here too when he eventually clocks off, but he thinks the idea of you being alone tonight is not a good idea."

"Definitely," nodded Ginny. "No arguments. I'm going to get our guest room sorted now." She left the room, leaving Hermione and Harry alone.

"When does this end?" she asked. "Every time we think it's over, there's some new threat. When will it stop?"

Harry had no answer.

* * *

_Firstly, my apologies for missing a week. I'm afraid I have some bad news: I have a job now (not recommended for anyone, this real life business) and so because I'm so busy, I'm only going to have time to update once every two weeks. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! BUT there are only two more chapters and an epilogue to go, so you won't be waiting too long._

_Also, you may have realised that it is not quite Wednesday (unless you live in the future, like the Australians). However, this forms part of the reason why you cannot kill me for the above announcement and must instead leave many lovely reviews on this chapter: I'm turning 21 tomorrow. Aah! Yah! Wah! So I probably won't have time to update then, so here it is early. And seriously, there is no better birthday present than a review... *obnoxious staring*_

_And finally, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I absolutely loved reading all your theories! PS: a note on Betty Callington—technically she's my OC, but there is an Auror witch with an eye-patch in OotP, so she's also _not _an OC, I guess?_


	13. Mother Knows Best

**Chapter Thirteen: ****Mother Knows Best**

Though she was both mentally and physically exhausted by the week's revelations, Hermione could not sleep until her husband arrived back at the house in Godric's Hollow at around two in the morning. Ron was so tired that he simply fell into the bed, muttering something about staying here for the night, and Hermione let him sleep. Even once he was back, however, she had trouble falling asleep herself; fears and worries plagued her brain and it took a long time to forget about them long enough to drift off.

She hardly felt like she'd been asleep for more than a few minutes—though, in reality, she'd had a good few hours' rest—when something woke her. She opened her eyes to see sunlight streaming into the bedroom, and Ron sat upright in the bed next to her, looking troubled. "Ginny's suffering some morning sickness, I think," he said, once he saw she was awake, but he needn't have bothered with the explanation, as she soon heard a shout from the room next door.

"For God's sake, Harry, _I am not an invalid_!"

She winced sympathetically—Ginny had been complaining last night about Harry's need to hover around her constantly, and she could practically hear him dithering through the closed door. The toilet flushed, drowning out his response, but they heard Ginny say, "It's just morning sickness! It happens, and it's no bloody fun, believe me—in fact, I wish to Merlin you had to go through this right now!—but it's bloody _fine_!"

"Yes, but Ginny, darling, after everything that's gone on recently, don't you think that—"

"There's nothing wrong with my baby!" Ginny all but shrieked. "They said at the Hospital that it was fine. This stupid potion thing hasn't affected him and I am _fine_!" She rather undermined this point by bursting into tears, and it was most alarming to hear Ginny, who never cried, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry had clearly tried to comfort her in some way, for she chocked out the words "Leave me alone!", before they heard the slamming of the bedroom door.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, before the latter hopped out of bed, opened the door of the guest room, and pulled Harry inside. He looked pale and worried but not, Hermione imagined, as bad as Ginny looked. "She's...I—I—I don't know what's wrong and—and—and..." he stuttered, waving his hands.

"Harry, sit down," Hermione said, pushing him into the small chair in the corner. "You're alright. It's okay." She spoke soothingly, which seemed to calm him down, and she perched on the windowsill next to him as he took several deep breaths.

"Should I go to Ginny?" Ron mouthed, pointing to the closed doorway through which his sister's sobs were still emanating. Hermione shook her head, motioning for him to sit down on the bed.

"Harry, Ginny's going to be perfectly fine," she continued in the same soothing voice. "She might get a bit of morning sickness or strange food cravings or...or whatever else it is pregnant women get, but that's all perfectly normal! It's _supposed_ to happen, it doesn't mean that she's ill. They said at St. Mungo's that the potion wouldn't affect the baby, and they're the best Healers in the world, you know!"

"But—but what about the crying? Ginny _never_ cries, you know that, and now she's—"

"It's just hormones," Hermione assured him. "Pregnancy hormones send your emotions up and down faster than a rollercoaster, don't they, Ron?"

She realised as she asked the question that Ron would have no idea what a rollercoaster was, but he made a convincing show of nodding along gamely anyway. "Absolutely!" he said, and his confidence seemed to give Harry a bit of a lift. "Anyway, you know what women are like—bloody emotional wrecks at the best of times, so add in all that baby business...well, it's just a recipe for disaster!"

"Oi!" said Hermione indignantly, but it had the desired effect on Harry, who chuckled slightly.

"I'm scared," he admitted, twisting his hands nervously.

"Of something happening to Ginny or the baby?" Ron asked. "It won't, mate. The Healers have said—"

"Not that," Harry muttered. "Me. What if...what if I'm no good as a father?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he finished his question, and Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance.

"Harry..." she murmured, hardly able to believe that her friend even needed assurances, "of _course_ you won't be!"

He shrugged, once, keeping his gaze on the floor.

"Mate," Ron began, his voice gentle, "the only thing you ever need to do is this." He waited until his best friend was looking at him before continuing. "Whenever you need to decide something, just think to yourself, 'Hmm, would that fine, upstanding bloke who is my Uncle Vernon think that this thing is a good idea?'. And if the answer to that question is yes, then you bloody well don't do it."

This got a genuine laugh out of Harry, and Hermione smiled at her husband in relief.

"Well, that settles it," he said, looking cheerful for the first time that morning. "Thanks for the tip."

"Look, Harry, what you said before about Ron's Mum knowing if something is just usual pregnancy stuff or a bit more serious—it still stands. If you're that concerned about Ginny, why doesn't Ron go and fetch her? She's been through it _all_ before, she'll know," Hermione suggested.

"Good idea," Ron said, looking relieved. "I'll go and put some proper clothes on, then I'll go and fetch her." He started hunting around for yesterday's clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.

"You go and talk to Ginny," Hermione continued. "She's calmed down now, listen—" Sure enough, the sound of sobbing at ceased, and there was just the occasional hiccup coming from next door. "Go on, off you go!"

"What'll you do?" Harry asked, as she pushed him to his feet.

"I'll go make a start on breakfast," she said.

"No!" Harry's shout was so alarmed that she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Sorry, Hermione. I mean, no," he said, much more quietly. "Ginny can't stand the smell of any food before half past nine. Seriously, if she murders you for cooking something, there'll be so much paperwork and I really can't be bothered with that now. Hold off a bit, will you?"

"Alright then," Hermione laughed. "I might go back to bed, rather than risk the wrath of Ginny..."

* * *

"_Maman_?"

Fleur blinked her way out of sleep, unsure if she really was awake. Her mother was in France, and she, still, was in St. Mungo's Hospital in London. And yet, her mother's cool hand on her forehead felt real enough...

"My silly girl, why did you not send for me sooner?" Apolline Delacour asked, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Wh—what do you mean?" asked Fleur.

"Why did you not tell me how ill you were?" she asked.

"But I did," murmured Fleur. "I wrote to you and said I was pregnant, and that we would all come and see you later in the summer, in France, when my morning sickness had worn off."

"Yes, and you made it sound like nothing!" her mother replied. "There are very few women who are hospitalised for their sickness—you have been very ill!"

"How do you—"

"Bill," she said simply. "He wrote to me the other day, begging me if I knew of any French hospitals which may be able to help you."

"Bill—what—where is he?" Fleur asked, by now totally confused. She tried to sit up and turned even paler, causing her mother a few moments of alarm whilst she settled her back down.

"Bill is fine," Apolline said, "though I cannot believe it took him this long to write to us... Anyway, he is with your father; we both arrived here early this morning by the first Portkey from Paris. We came as soon as we heard, and he met us at the British Ministry this morning. He has taken your father to your home to look after the girls, and I have come to make you better."

"You can stop me being this sick?" Fleur asked. "Nothing the Healers have tried has made any difference, I am still—"

"The Healers have no experience with Veela magic," said her mother in a tone that was almost—almost—derisive. To say Fleur was surprised would have been an understatement: her mother had hardly tried to keep her Veela heritage and had spent her whole life living as a witch, preferring an altogether more human world. There were powers that the Veela had that went beyond what was considered 'normal' magic, and was closer to the magic of Goblins and House Elves and Centaurs, but she had eschewed that firmly. Now—_now_, when she was more ill than she had ever been—Fleur was supposed to start believing in what her mother had always termed 'that hocus-pocus'? It hardly seemed believable.

"No, you must listen," her mother said. "The Veela very rarely have boys; it happens most often when there is a good deal of wizard blood involved in the creation of a child. You yourself are only one quarter Veela, and you have married a wizard. It is most likely that you are having a boy."

"Bill and I chose not to find out..." Fleur said.

"I know, but you will have to go back on that," her mother continued patiently. "You see, because it is so rare for Veela to give birth to boys, the body often tries to reject it. I believe it is to do with what the Muggles call genetics. Boys will make the mother very sick and often she is at great risk of dying."

Fleur's heart started pounding. Her mother seemed to be suggesting that she either terminate her pregnancy, or risk her own life in continuing it. She would be prepared to do the latter, if it weren't for her two daughters, who would potentially grow up without a mother. Which did she choose—the baby in her womb, or those already living?

Apolline could read her daughter easily. "No, no, it is not like that!" she cried, without Fleur having to speak a word. "There is a cure. The Veela have invented it, and it works perfectly. They have been using it for many decades now, and it has never failed. It keeps the baby safe, too."

"Well, what is it?" Fleur asked with some urgency.

"A potion, taken by the mother—what? What is it? Is something the matter?" It was now Apolline's turn to sound urgent, as Fleur had given a derisive "Hah!" and made scoffing noises under her breath.

"_More_ potions!" she said, throwing her hands up rather wildly. "Have you not heard?!"

"About how...how you became pregnant? Yes, Bill explained some," replied Apolline, though truth be told she was still not entirely certain on how the whole matter had come about. This was mostly, however, due to Bill's poor explanation skills: so worried had he been about his wife's state, he had barely been able to get his words out in the right order. Nonetheless, she had gathered that Fleur had only become pregnant because of some potion she had unknowingly taken, though the Healers were sure that her extreme sickness was not due to a side effect of said potion—something Apolline, with her family's history, was inclined to agree on.

"But this potion, it's not like that," she continued. "It has been used by the Veela for years and years, and it does not harm the baby at all. There is only one drawback." Fleur raised an eyebrow. "You cannot take any other potions with it—not even for medicinal purposes—as they may react with it, which can harm the baby. You must be very careful with what you eat and drink over the next few months, and you cannot even take something like Pepper-Up Potion for a cold, or use Essence of Dittany on a wound. Nor will you be able to take a pain relieving potion when you are in labour; though of course afterwards, your life will continue as it did before."

"That is it?" Fleur asked. "The only catch?" Her mother nodded once. "I will wait and see what Bill says, but it sounds..." She searched around for the correct word.

"It sounds like the answer to all your problems, my dear," her mother said drily. "Now, your husband will be here shortly; he just had to take your father to the girls', and then—"

As if she had summoned him, there was a knock on the door and Bill entered. "You're awake!" he cried, spying his wife sitting up in her hospital bed, and hurried over to her, setting down next to her. The thump jarred her slightly, and though normally she would hardly have noticed such a movement, in her heightened state of nausea it made her groan and reach over for a well placed bowl. After several deep breaths, however, she lost her green tinge, and waved away her husband's profuse apologies.

"I am fine," she said, though she patently did not look it.

Bill patted her hand gently; about the only gesture of comfort he could manage these days which did not aggravate her nausea more. "Have you told her about—" he began, addressing his question to his mother-in-law, and she nodded, cutting him off.

"I 'ave explained to 'er everyzhing," Apolline said. She and her daughter had of course reverted back to speaking English now that Bill was with them, and Fleur realised that her own French accent had faded somewhat, as she listened to her mother's voice. "You will, of course, 'ave to find out eef zhe child ees a boy, and I know zaht you deed not want to."

"We can probably afford that sacrifice, can't we?" Fleur asked, addressing her husband.

"Certainly," Bill said. "I spoke to the Healers first thing this morning. Healers Patil and Appleby were against it initially; it's not a cure they've heard of before. But one of the Head Healers over on the Spell Damage Ward did part of her training in Bulgaria, and she's seen the cure used to great effect, so they've decided to allow it on the proviso that we sign a declaration to the effect of, 'if this goes arse up, we won't sue'," he continued.

"And it just depends on if the baby is going to be a boy, or not?" Fleur asked.

Her mother nodded. "Yes," she said. "But I would...'ow ees eet zhat you say? Bet my bottom Galleon on eet."

"The potions are being shipped over from an Italian hospital; apparently there's a Veela enclave there, and they have treated a case like yours before, so the Healers are taking advice from them. Then, it's just a matter of waiting twenty-four hours for the potions to make their way out of your system, and if everything goes to plan, you could be back at home with the girls by Tuesday!" Bill explained encouragingly.

"Back at 'ome on Tuesday?" she asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"I shouldn't see why not," he replied, and her mother nodded in agreement.

"Then fetch the 'Ealers," she said, managing a weak smile in what felt like the first time in forever.

* * *

"Anyone home?!"

"Kitchen!" Ginny's called, as Hermione let herself in. "How was work?" she added, once the other had entered the kitchen.

"Good," Hermione said. "We're finally making progress on this House Elf Bill."

"That's...really...good," Ginny said slowly, whilst frantically writing on a piece of parchment in front of her. "There!" she said triumphantly a moment later, throwing down her quill. "My article's all done, and ahead of my deadline too!"

"Well done you," said Hermione, smiling. "Are you going to send it off to the _Prophet_ now?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I wanted to get it written today, then tomorrow I only have to proofread it and take it in to the offices. It'll be good to get out of the house..."

"Sounds like we've both had pretty successful days then," Hermione replied, taking a seat opposite her friend and helping herself to a biscuit from the jar.

Ginny nodded, but did not look too hopeful when she asked, "Is there any point in even asking if the boys have had the same?"

Hermione pulled a face and Ginny sighed. "I thought not."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said. "It was Friday when we found out about Pansy Parkinson, and I thought that would solve everything, but it hasn't. Apparently, it's just made things even more murky!"

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"I stopped by the Auror Office at lunch today—Ron was able to join me for all of ten minutes." She rolled her eyes.

"Robards likes to push them hard, doesn't he?" Ginny muttered. "Never mind that the whole office is running on about three hours sleep combined since the weekend, now they don't even get time for proper meals!"

"I know," Hermione said sympathetically. "Anyway, the fingerprint tests have come back, and it's definitely Pansy who's been handling that phial. The only other prints on there are all people from the Auror Office and Hit Wizard Squad who went over and collected it in the first place."

"So...that means she's even more of a suspect, right?" asked Ginny, confused.

"You would think, but no," continued her friend. "The prints were enough of a legal justification to give her Veriatisum. But even under the most powerful truth telling potion, she still maintains total innocence about the whole thing—she honestly does know nothing. And she swears she has an alibi who can prove her innocence, but she won't tell them who it is."

"But _why_?" asked Ginny. "That could take all the heat off her and actually prove her innocence!"

"I know," sighed Hermione. "Ron thinks it might be that she's involved in something else, and doesn't want to indict _that_ person or plot or whatever. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of sharing that with Robards, who's now added it to the list of things for them to be investigating..."

"Yeah—Harry said yesterday that they were monitoring her flat but they hadn't seen anyone coming and going who shouldn't have been," Ginny commented. "Unless they were using Polyjuice Potion, I guess..."

"Mmm," said Hermione. "Oh—and I haven't even told you the _really_ good news yet!"

"Which is?" Ginny asked, not sound hopeful. Hermione's tone had made it clear she was being sarcastic.

"You know how Audrey was finally released from the Hospital yesterday? Well, Percy's taken some time off work to be with her whilst she recovers, and he's passed on the organising of this gala dinner for some foreign ministers at the end of the month to his assistant, who's dating someone in the Auror Office. The assistant happened to mention the dinner to her partner, who told Robards about it, and now Robards thinks that this whole potion thing is just to distract the Aurors whilst whoever's behind it does something at the gala for the foreign ministers."

"But why would they target some foreign ministers?" Ginny asked.

"Beats me," Hermione shrugged. "But also—why would anyone want to make a bunch of women pregnant? Loads of things aren't making sense at the moment." Ginny hummed in response to this, staring out of the window distractedly. "So, anyway, going back to the beginning: the boys have not had a successful day and won't be home til gone midnight again, most probably."

"_Again_," sighed Ginny.

"They're doing their best!"

"I know, I know," Ginny responded immediately. "But it just felt like, once you'd had that breakthrough with discovering Pansy's link to the whole thing, it'd be a matter of hours before everything was solved. But that was last Friday—tomorrow it'll be a week since the discovery, and they're almost worse off than before!"

"It's not good," agreed Hermione.

"I wouldn't mind so much if Harry wasn't in overprotective mode so much," grumbled her friend.

"Ron's the same with me though—that's why I'm staying with you, isn't it? I doubt we're in any danger, but it makes sense to have the two of us be together, rather than on opposite sides of the country just in case, doesn't it?" Hermione replied, trying to sound positive.

"I think he thinks that being pregnant has made my brain fall out or something," Ginny continued darkly.

"Well, you _are_ a bit weepy at the moment. It must be that that's thrown him," Hermione joked. Ginny glared, and she hastily apologised. When Molly Weasley had come round on the weekend, she had pronounced Ginny perfectly fine; her emotional behaviour and occasional sickness was, apparently, normal for a pregnant woman. Despite knowing it was all completely natural, however, Hermione still found it hard to cope with the normally stoic Ginny bursting into tears every few hours.

Ginny let out a long sigh, and then, after a moment's pause, got to her feet, at determined look on her face. "You know what? I am _sick_ of only seeing the four walls of this house. Let's do something!"

"I don't know," Hermione said immediately. "Harry and Ron want us to stay out of the way at the moment, and—"

"Let's go to Andromeda Tonks's," Ginny said, ignoring her. "Oh, come on, Hermione!" she wheedled, when her friend still looked doubtful. "If someone was going to attack me and you as part of this whole...whatever this is, they'd have done it by now. And we'll be apparating straight to Andromeda's, _and_ on the tiny, tiny, tiny chance we're attacked there, she's a brilliant witch and an additional wand can only be a bonus. _And_ you haven't seen Teddy in ages!"

"Oh...alright then," Hermione said.

"Yay!" squealed Ginny, rushing round the table to hug Hermione. She returned the gesture, but pulled back after a moment to frown at Ginny when she was still clinging on to her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, concerned, as she noticed Ginny's eyes were swimming with tears.

"Y-yes," the redhead wailed. "I'm j-just so _happy_ about s-seeing Teddy!" She let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and then hiccupped. "Sorry," she sniffed. "These hormones are _ridiculous_." Hermione found herself wishing even more strongly for Harry, Ron and the other Aurors to solve the case as quickly as they could. She couldn't cope with a pregnant Ginny alone for longer than she absolutely had to...

* * *

"She's so good with him," Mrs. Tonks said with a smile, looking across the room where Ginny was reading Teddy a story—and naturally doing all the voices—having spent the past hour playing with him on his toy broomstick.

"I know," Hermione agreed fondly. "She was panicking at me the other night about not knowing how to be a Mum, and getting everything wrong. I just told her she'll be fine, and that Ted's the proof of that."

"How is she?" asked Mrs. Tonks, lowering her voice slightly. "Mentally, I mean. Molly told me all about this business with the pregnancy potion; how the Aurors are looking for the person behind it. But it sounds a bit frightening, to suddenly find yourself pregnant when you're not expecting it..."

"It was a shock at first, I think," Hermione said. "But it was for everyone involved, I suppose. I think Ginny would have liked a few more years playing Quidditch, but she's come round to the idea of having a baby now, and she's looking forward to it. The timing could have been better, but...what can you do?"

"Well quite, quite," she said. "You know, I hadn't heard of the potion in years, but it did bring back memories..."

"You mean you've taken it?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Oh, no—nothing like that," Mrs. Tonks said quickly. "But I knew the inventor of it: Damocles Belby. He was a few years ahead of me at school, and quite, quite brilliant at potions. There was time when it seemed that every other month, he'd be in the paper for one spectacular breakthrough or another..." She paused, clearly lost in some reminiscence or another. "Mind you, the whole family was like that—excellent potioneers. He had a sister in my year, Endora, her name was, Endora Belby. She was almost as brilliant too, but being a woman, she wasn't allowed to pursue potion making, or any career really. Well, it wasn't so much that she was a woman, more that she was a _pureblood_ woman," she added, at Hermione's questioning glance. "In those days, the best you could hope for was to be some pureblood's trophy wife."

"Unless you ran away and married a muggleborn," Hermione said wryly.

"Quite," said Mrs. Tonks with a smile. She looked like she was going to continue, but Ginny interrupted the two of them.

"We're thinking it might be someone's bedtime," she said, with a significant glance at Teddy, who was holding her hand tightly.

"I think you might be right," Mrs. Tonks said. "Are you ready for bed, Teddy?"

The little boy considered this, then nodded, tugging at Ginny's clothes. Obligingly, she bent down and listened seriously whilst he whispered something in her ear. "He says he'd like you to come and tuck him up, as well, Hermione," she reported.

"Me?!" said Hermione, surprised. "But I—" She broke off, catching sight of Teddy's crestfallen face. "You two go ahead; I'll be right up." Teddy let out a cry of delight at such an exciting proposal, and, despite everything else that was going on, Hermione couldn't help but feel happy as she watched him. Not everything in the world was bad, after all.

* * *

"So what else is new?" Ron asked, mouth full of sandwich.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Half of those are meant to be for Harry, you know."

"Sod Harry, he's got his own sandwich-bringing wench!" Ron said, biting into another ham and mustard sandwich.

"_Excuse _me?"

"But you're my _favourite_ sandwich-bringing wench," Ron said, and Hermione's lips twitched involuntarily. "Hah!" he yelled on seeing this, inadvertently giving her a view of his half-chewed lunch.

"I'm ignoring that only because you're running on about two hours sleep," she said, attempting a frown. "But seriously, you've got to save some of these for Harry, because Ginny couldn't get away to see him during his lunchbreak and she's really worried about how much he's eating, because—"

"Hermione, it's okay," Ron said. "I promise. Harry's doing fine, and so am I." She breathed deeply. Only getting to see her husband for twenty minutes on the floor outside the Auror Office was not her idea of a fun day—but it was better than the previous day, when neither of them had come home at all. But Ron looked okay—albeit completely exhausted—and he spoke reassuringly to her. "And hey, when this is all over, I've already told Robards I'm taking three years off so we can go on a really long holiday together."

Hermione gave a weak laugh. "And he sanctioned that?"

"He sanctioned a fortnight," Ron replied.

"Well, I guess it'll do," she sighed. "So tell me: is there any more news? Any further suspects, or any progress with Pansy Parkinson?"

"Nothing at all, and I _don't_ want to waste this time with you talking about the stuff I've been talking about for six days straight," he said. "So, tell me about your life."

"There's not much to tell, really," Hermione shrugged. "Ginny's going to remove Harry from the mortgage and add me in his place because we've basically moved in together and sod you boys..."

"Sounds fair enough," Ron said. "What else?"

"Um...we went and saw Teddy yesterday—tell Harry he's doing fine, but he misses him," Hermione said. "Oh! I know you said you didn't want to talk about work, but I was chatting with Mrs. Tonks about things, and she said that she knew of the potion because its inventor was quite famous; Damocles Belby? Maybe you could pull him in for interviewing?"

"No such luck," Ron said, shaking his head. "Robards already tried that, but he's been dead fifteen years—natural causes, nothing suspicious, but still no use to us."

"Well...what about the rest of his family? They might have some of his old papers or something; she said that the whole family were extremely talented in potions. It's worth a shot—they might be able to help with understanding the nature of the potion," she persisted.

"I guess it's worth a shot," Ron said. "Did she mention where they live, at all? I suppose not really..."

"The only thing I remember was that he had a sister called Endora, Endora Belby, and—Ron! What is it?!" Ron had leapt to his feet, knocking over the remains of the sandwiches, and slapped himself firmly in the face, much to Hermione's alarm.

"I _knew_ the name Belby was familiar," he said, crouching down next to his wife. Hermione's heart began to pound as he began speaking very quickly. "You know how Robards thinks that this potion thing is just a distraction for something bigger? Half the office thinks this something bigger is an attack that we don't know about but is imminent; and half think it's to do with the Yaxley case—you know he keeps giving false information to our Aurors, getting them injured? We _know_ he's got a connection to the outside world, but we don't know how: the only visitor he's allowed is his wife."

"I don't see—"

"His wife is also the only vaguely suspicious person we've seen visit Pansy Parkinson's address, but we can't arrest her for having tea with the wife of an ex-Death Eater, so we haven't really done anything about it," Ron continued, ignoring the interruption. "And his wife is—or at least, was, before she married him—Endora. Endora Yaxley, nee Belby."

* * *

_This is a really long author's note, and you don't have to read it if you don't want, but I'd still love a review!_

_Firstly, I hope it was obvious but in case it wasn't, when Fleur and her mother are speaking without a phonetically written accent, it's because they're speaking French (and totally not because that's easier to write zhan writing like zheese...)_

_Secondly, this is the penultimate chapter—I'll post the last one in a fortnight, and then the epilogue a week after that. I have been asked about sequels, and one version of this answer is no, there is not going to be a direct sequel to this story (at least, not one written by me!). However, the vast majority of my stories take place within the same (canon) universe and so often they reference each other. For a full reading list, you can check out my profile which has a link to my tumblr, where you can find what I have already posted, and what I plan to post in the future. (If the link is broken, just go to ladyknightley dot tumblr dot com, and feel free to follow me there too, if you'd like!) Like I say, I'm not planning on writing a sequel to this story as it stands, but the main themes/plot may come up in another story in the future. Who knows what will happen?! (I certainly don't...)_

_Finally, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, and especially for all the birthday wishes! Thanks especially to: yellow 14 (glad you like Betty – she might be making another appearance shortly!), gabbygirl247, Wizard of night (I will PM you tomorrow about your question!), WheelchairDiva, finchelromionelover, jubs-vj, Im In Love with the Phantom, xxxLeanniexxx, HogwartsDreamer113 (I think yours is the closest guess yet!), Magdylena Black and The Golden Marauder (thank you so, so much for the lovely compliments!)._


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